


Jason Todd

by writingtheworks



Series: the c in DC stands for "cringey" [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Multi, Reader Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-07 10:52:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 29,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19207897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingtheworks/pseuds/writingtheworks
Summary: Jason fics from my reader-insert Tumblr days. Enjoy!





	1. Perfect Remedies

“Jason, I need to  _study_.” You emphasized desperately. Jason continues walking, shifting your weight on his shoulder as he marches out of your hidey-hole in the conservatory of Wayne Manor. You huffed, crossing your arms and staring at the floor as it flies by. You hated to admit it because that meant you would succumb to it, but being carried down the hall over Jason’s shoulder is  _so_  much more fun in comparison to studying—even if it’s a subject you love.

Jason couldn’t help but think you’d started to become Tim Drake. Coffee had been your life’s blood for the past three days, and you had stated:  _“sleep is for the weak”_ at least twelve times by now. He’d gotten back from patrol maybe a half an hour ago, at  _two in the morning_ , and you were still hunched over a textbook by lamplight. It is definitely time for an intervention.

The Red Hood only whistles, boots hushed by carpet and voice by sleeping brothers. You shiver when a rush of cold air greets you, and Jason breaches the quiet lawn, then  _finally_ speaks, ”You need to take breaks, babe. Otherwise, you won’t learn anything.”

“…I’ve been taking breaks.” You defended yourself quietly. Jason snorts, settling your bare feet into the grass, ”Yeah. Sure.”

It is only now that you notice he has a blanket under his arm, and even in your sleepy, study-messed haze do you understand what he’s doing. You raise an eyebrow,”Stargazing?”

“Well,  _you’ll_  be looking at the stars and I’ll be looking at  _you_ , beautiful.” Jason winks, taking a step forward so your chest brushes his. He’s trying to distract you, take you away from your thoughts of problems and information. It’s working. More sincere and sweet, Jason’s fingers rise to place a lock of hair behind your ear,”But you really do deserve a break.”

“That’s really sweet of you, Jason.” You smiled tiredly. Before you can deliver your “but…”, Jason shushes you with a chaste kiss, dropping your chin and nodding deeper into the garden, ”Then let’s go. I have a lot more romantic shit to say and you’re the only person I can say it to.”

You catch up with him, resting your fingers on his back as you walk,”Aw, Jay, are you feeling all mushy?” You tease. He sends you a glare like a stamp-collector sends letters; reluctantly, because they want to keep the stamp.

In Jason’s vast collections of moments he’s shared with you, it is these ones, with quiet laughter and teasing, your hand someplace on him and your cheeks deep with color, that he enjoys the most. When Jason first met you it took every ounce of himself not to fall in love with you. When Jason first heard you laugh it took every ounce of himself not to kiss you. And when he saw you, floating between reality and dreamland as you gazed at him, it took every ounce of him.

With a wave and a dramatic flourish—almost in the manner that Bruce dives behind his cape—Jason expands the blanket and guides it into the grass. You crawl over it and get comfortable, feeling the stiffness of earth and rock only a layer beneath you. You don’t dare bring up your need to study again. He’s right. Maybe it’s about time for a break.

“How much sleep have you gotten, baby?” Jason asked. He stretches out, folding his hands behind his head and crossing his ankles. He’d traded his uniform for some sleeping attire. You shrug,”I don’t know. Maybe three hours.”

“In the last three days?” Jason asked, incredulous. When you slowly nod, Jason rolls his eyes and mutters something you’re too tired to catch about _“Drake”_ and  _“sleep”_. He free’s one of his arms and opens it for your enjoyment, coiling it around your shoulders when you lay your cheek against his ribs. He whispers as his fingers play with your hair, ”Go to sleep. I’ll carry you in.”

“What if I can’t—” You yawn, ”—sleep?”

“Then I’ll knock you out or something.” Jason chuckled. You smiled into his shirt, fingers spread over his chest gently shifting as you try to get more comfortable, ”I’m fine with that.” You confessed.

After a pause, you add slowly, ”…But what about all the romantic “shit” you were gonna say…?”

“Okay, okay, don’t laugh at me,” Jason starts, giggling, ”But I found this quote that I thought really described you.”

You hum in response, the soft chirp of crickets and the gentle light of fireflies floating behind your eyelids. Jason flushes. He exhales, threading his fingers into your hair and untangling each knot, ”You shouldn’t try so hard to be perfect.” He whispered.

Jason glanced down at you, the deep purple waves beneath your eyes, the tangled mess of unwashed hair he was currently trying to fix, and the tiredness within you desperately grappling for sleep. He sounds like an idiot, he knows he does, but damn… you’re a mess, but you’re  _his_  mess. The best mess.

“Trust me,” Jason’s voice gets quieter as you sink deeper into him, ”Perfect should try to be you.”


	2. All Through the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your parents don't like Jason very much.

The front door slams behind you so harshly the windows on the house shudder, and you do to as the nighttime air suddenly engulfs you. Jason tries to smile,”Thanks for tonight, Y/N. The food was really good.” The teen shuffles his feet on your driveway, glancing sideways and down your street. Your home’s light casts a golden glow over the boy’s skin, adding to the greaser air you had always imagined around him. He fists his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. If you saw him right now, trying to smile even if can’t reach his eyes, you would never guess he was Bruce Wayne’s newly adopted son. Maybe that’s why you liked him so much. Jason wasn’t a rich kid, even if he had the money.

“I’m so sorry, Jason.” You said, putting your hand on his arm and sighing. Jason shakes his head and steps forward so you’re closer, ”Look, I get it—parents are rough. I figured they wouldn’t like me. I  _knew_ they wouldn’t like me.” Jason waves his hand dismissively.

You roll your eyes at him, squeezing his bicep, ”Really, it’s not your fault. They’re just so controlling and… y’know, they’re never around, so they must’ve thought that if they “gave me advice” on my life that would make up for them being gone all the time.”

Jason shakes his head again, gently scattering his locks and shadowing his face when he stares down at you. Through the bare darkness, you can see the reflection of the moonlight against his irises, shimming and swimming in a way where you can read the emotion on his face even if you can barely see it; Jason Todd isn’t disappointed, he isn’t melancholy. You knew you would be upset if his adoptive father hated you. And yet, the few things that Jason seems to be feeling now are the gratification of being right and the growing adoration he carries for you.

“They’ll come around.” Jason lies, knowing damn well that your parents don’t like him, never will, and never  _should_. You shouldn’t either. But screw common sense and the ever-looming mist of danger that coats Jason’s skin. He’s in love with you, he’s sure of that. Your parents aren’t going to stop him.

“So will you.” You smile, ”You’ll come around tomorrow night and sneak into my bedroom, right?” You whisper in his ear. Jason nods, clasping both your wrists and then your hands. Bending down, he kisses each of your knuckles and smirked when you blush,”You know I will, beautiful.”

The giggle in your throat falters as you voice it, expression dropping with your shoulders in disappointment. You squeeze his hands, ”They’re not going to let me see you ever again. They’re gonna make me break up with you, or take away my phone privileges, or put bars on my windows—”

Jason rolls his eyes,”That’s not going to stop me.” He points to himself, hand still clasped in yours. He raises an eyebrow, ”Boy Wonder, remember?”

You laugh humorlessly, ”Yeah, well we can’t exactly tell them that, can we?”

You glance back at the house at the call of your name. You retract your hands from his and cross your arms over your chest, shivering from the cold, ”Jay, I—”

“I’ll wait for you,” Jason whispers. Suddenly urgent, he turns your chin so you’re eye-to-eye. His are clouded with racing thoughts and racing clouds of blue. Jason grins, cupping your face, ”I’ll wait for you. We’ll run away together, you and me.” He promises.

Before the weight of his words can meet you full-force, your eyes light up and you place your hands on his chest, ”…Really?”

Jason nods, more sure of himself now, ”Yeah. Yes. We’ll get an apartment in downtown Gotham, or maybe Metropolis or Coast City— _someplace_. We’ll get a place together, you can start working, I can start working and be Robin. It’ll be perfect.”

“Ok—Okay.” You laugh. With your agreement Jason presses a hard kiss on your cheek, and then your chin, and then your jaw, beneath your eye. You laugh harder this time, trying to push off his affections before he can start to tickle you. Too late you realize, as he fingers start to dance up your sides with the intent to make you laugh until you can’t breathe. He succeeds, and you push him off with the last of your breath.

“What did I say about tickling me, Jason Todd?” You question playfully, covering your very ticklish waist with your hands and trying to hide your grin. He smirked, wrapping his arms around your back and laying his brow against yours, ”Oh don’t act like you’re annoyed with me. I can see that smile. C’mon.” He urges, nudging you teasingly with his elbow.

The happy tone of the conversation disappears for the second time with another call of your name. You can see your mother’s silhouette against the screen door, hand ready to open it and interrupt you and your boyfriend. Swiftly you pull the zipper on his jacket higher, melting into the kiss he gives you.

“Goodnight, Jason.” You said. You’re sure your mother heard you. Jason slips out of your hold sadly, as best as he can with your hands still latched onto the back of his jacket. He pauses, considering himself, before leaning down and capturing your lips in another soft kiss that seems too final for your liking. His lips ghost against your ear, and he whispers something that makes your grip on him tighten and your eyes start to water.

“Jay—” You whisper. Your breath catches and you watch him smile at you. Jason winks, fingers catching against the seam of your sleeve as he turns around and mounts his bike. You hug yourself instead of him, the taste in your mouth suddenly bitter and your eyes stinging. You wave to him, choking on your own sob, ”Me too, Jay.” You murmur. He smiles again, but this time it’s clear that it’s only for your benefit. His motorcycle awakes with a roar, and then his beautiful blue eyes are gone and so is he.

When Jason Todd’s hand reaches through your window a few nights later, you don’t hesitate to grab it.


	4. I Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Jason Todd’s death, the second Batgirl, Y/N L/N, is determined to kill the two men who caused it. Bruce watches her transformation, and the way her expression shifts when the Red Hood takes off his helmet.

Bruce had never known how much damage a sixteen-year-old girl could cause until Jason Todd’s death. He remembers telling her almost as well as he remembers holding Jason’s body, or the splitting, earth-shattering, undiluted pain in his chest as his heart tried to saw it’s way out of his ribcage. **  
**

At first, the only thing that had been noticeably off was Y/N’s immediate disappearance and the way she had executed it. It was cliche and simple. She left a tear-stained note on her bed, and Alfred read it aloud to me as I drove the Batmobile into downtown Gotham—Riddler had made a bomb threat on the GCPD, and that meant that I was needed elsewhere. _Y/N can wait,_ I remember thinking harmlessly, _she’s only a teenager. I can find her once this is over with._

But after her disappearance crimes began to topple on top of each other, creating a proper and steady barricade between myself and the second Batgirl. By the time I had managed to create a period in which I could search for her, she was gone and seemingly never returning.

My fist stops half-way between my body and the Penguin’s face, and then he spits her name. I pause. He starts babbling something about where she is and how she bargained with most of my rogue’s gallery.

_“The girl said—” Penguin spits out a tooth, ”She said to everybody that if we all ganged up on you then she’d tell us you’re real identity.” He squawked when I went to punch him again._

The sickest part of it all was that I believed him, a mindless and heartless psychopath, when he told me that she’d gone after the Joker looking for blood. I believed her when she said that she loved Jason all those months ago. And so I believed myself in my own suspicion that she planned to kill the Joker for what he’d done to Jason…  _our_ Jason.

I know that she’s broken when I hear gunfire and see her fingers pulling the trigger instead of someone else. The only reason I hold back is not even that she is like a daughter to me (something that if Dick or Alfred ever heard they would become sick), but because she refrained from killing children _. She’s not too far gone,_  I told myself,  _I can still save her even if I couldn’t save him._

I remember what she looked like when I found her. Four months of absence, of mourning and grief for the boy that had shown her more kindness than any other had not been good to her. I could tell even through the rain that she was sobbing. I remember how the sound tore through me. I remember how she released everything I and the streets had taught her into that fight. She was primal, and yelling under the cover of thunder and lightning, _”It’s all your fault! It’s all your fault!”_  Her voice broke and she crumbled into a mess of sobbing. I wanted to embrace her and comfort her in that moment, but my own fear for her mental state held me back. When I tried to bring her back home she sprinted off into the night, hands dripping with red rainwater.

Then Tim comes into my life. Y/N disappears. Tim, desperate to prove that he can fill Jason’s boots as Robin, chases her down. He can only collect enough evidence to prove my theory; she was gone, but she was coming back and she was going to kill me and my worst adversary, The Joker.

When Y/N returned, three years had passed. She was taller and stronger, more vengeful. Her skills had managed to reach the point where they could almost best my own, and she grew better and better by the hour. But there was not a moment where I wished I had not taught her everything I knew. My every thought had been filed down to one mission.  _Bring her home safe._

We fought for weeks. Months. She planned. Tim, Dick, and I navigated the territory she brought us too and tried to survive. We found bodies in her wake, traumatized villains, messages like  _“Crime doesn’t deserve to live”_  spray-painted onto alleyway walls. There had been a point where I was too desperate—she had already managed to defeat Dick at only nineteen years old, while holding a Batarang to Tim’s throat. I knew she had won. I told her the truth.

I told her about Jason, how much I missed him, how much I wanted him back. I told Y/N about herself, how much I needed to have her home, how it was the only way we could move on—together. She broke down in tears, apologized for everything she had done. I feel as if Tim can recall that night better than anyone present could. She had clutched his face and told him for the first time,  _”You make a wonderful Robin,” She whimpered, ”I’m so sorry.”_

Tim had hugged her. That had ended it. She said she’d come back when she felt clearer, sparing Dick and myself glances with an equal amount of guilt and inner hatred for herself. I let her go only because she had taken off her mask and looked upward, _” He would have never wanted me to do this.”_

Alfred opens the door six months later. Tim and I return from patrol to her humming a song I remember she and Jason would dance to together, making food and laughing in the kitchen with Alfred. We haven’t spoken of what she did in her absence, where she went to train, until later in the next two years.

She becomes a core part of our team again. She and her mentor, Barbara, reunite and I hear the two girls cry for the first time in unison. She kisses Dick on the cheek every night before they head out on patrol. He checks her guns to see if they’re loaded. When they are, he returns them and warns her everytime,  _”Non-lethal.”_  She says nothing and accepts the weapons. 

I know she kills her victims when we are not present. This has led to dozens of arguments that I am too scared to raise. If I do, then I know that she will snap and I will never see the same look she gives me every time she needs to understand that I feel it too. Jason is gone. We are both healing.

She approaches me one day and reminds me that she has no name.

_“Babs is Oracle, Dick is Nightwing, Tim is Robin. You’re Batman.” Y/N flopped down into one of two chairs across my desk. I can vividly imagine Jason propped up in the one beside her, entwining their hands where they think that I cannot see them. Y/N softly says, ”I can’t be Batgirl. That’s not me anymore. So what about a different name?”_

Her and I both shared the same thought. The name should honor Jason. She has been wanting to show that she can be morally straight after so long, so I immediately accept one idea out of the many we came up within the next minutes. She needs the support and my guidance. Alfred smiles the next day when an envelope is slipped into his quarters; inside is a sketch of a costume, labeled  _White Robin_. White, the color of purity. Robin, Jason’s name.

 _“You’ll make a wonderful Robin.”_  Tim had told her, quoting her previous words. She embraced him.

Y/N is happier. I am happier because of her. She hugs more often. She speaks quietly, but with a sweetness that she had not had even before Jason’s death. She and Dick are now the nicest and most positive out of all of us. I wouldn’t want it any other way. The costume makes her happy. She is doing (mostly) good.

Seeing her in the same costume now doesn’t feel right. Before today the pure-colored tactical gear and weaponry suited her better than capes and cowls. Yes, she didn’t blend in amongst the deep blacks and dark greys of the rest of the family’s attire, but I suppose that was the point. For almost four years she had represented a darkness, a part of me that I felt that I would never be able to help, so now she is the opposite. She is light.

But across from Jason Todd, she should be in different colors. She should wear the blues and blacks of her Batgirl costume, with Jason in the yellows, greens, and reds of a Robin. But it is all wrong—now they are in reverse. She is pure and snowy, while he is bloody and dark. Regardless, there is still love in her eyes. I know, even if Jason’s are hidden behind the lenses of a blood-red helmet, his mirror the feelings on her own. Maybe it is because as I, Dick, and Tim all stand against him in fighting positions, she is still and staring.

“…Jason?” She whispered tentatively. His name on her lips is so much more foreign and dangerous than it should be.

When he pulls off his helmet I expect the revenge to glint harshly off of the blues of his eyes, like daggers reopening the wounds of my mourning for him. I expect him to be grinning maliciously with our surprise at his return. But Jason is not. He stares at White Robin, at Batgirl,  _his_ Batgirl, and she stares back at him. Her Robin, and now her Red Hood.

He drops the helmet without care and she sprints full-force towards him. He doesn’t hesitate to open his arms, the arms that I had watched wrap around the throat of criminals and silence their final breaths. She accepts him into her unashamedly. He breathes her name as she leaps for him, and he binds her to his broad chest without hesitation. Their embrace seems to break too quickly. Urgently, she cups his face. She gives herself only a second to see Jason Todd again, to notice the white streak in his hair, the worn lines and scars on his face, or the handsomeness that had grown up with him. And then they kiss.

It amazes me how quickly she can forget that he’s killed people, that he is not the same man she knew. But then again, I am probably just jealous of his love for her. I know my relationship with Jason as father and son will take years to repair. But they fall for each other all over again in one glance—underneath my yearn for a complete family with Jason in it, I find a spark of happiness at seeing them together again. I have always associated Y/N with Jason, and Jason with Y/N, so seeing them together is satisfying. Completing.

We can’t hear their murmurs between tears but we can all see their closeness; Jason screws his eyes shut, trying to suppress his regret and pain as she palms his cheek. Her lower lip quivers as their fingers intertwine after so long, so far apart. I see her whisper _“I love you.”_  I watch Jason put their locked hands over his heart, _”I love you too.”_


	5. In Those Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason Todd rants a lot more when he's relaxed.

Jason releases a sharp intake of air as his rant suddenly grinds to a halt. He’s too scared to look up at you, to see the worry bleeding in your gaze, eyes darting anywhere but his face, embarrassed, disgusted, and shocked… all with him. He definitely said too much. “Too much” meaning the nightmares about his death, the reimaging of his return to the living, the forcefulness of his reanimation, the constant,  _constant_ laughter harmonizing with metal striking his back.

But your fingers working the soap into his hair don’t cease. You briefly glanced down at him. When seeing that he wasn’t looking back, you tried to force yourself in his line of vision. Jason stops mindlessly rippling the bubbly bath water you’re both submerged in. You smile at him softly, ”Keep going. It’s fine.”

“Nah. Forget it.” Jason dismisses with a wave of his hand. His eyes flutter shut as you knead the shampoo into his scalp, soapy hands digging into his locks and ridding them of oil and grime. He sighs, a shuddery sound, and shakes his head, ”I’m ruining our bath with my angst.” Jason tried to smile. It didn’t really work.

“This was meant for relaxation. You were relaxed enough to tell me,” You shrugged, ”But if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine too. Whatever makes you happy, my love.”

Jason sighs again, soft and barely present. The feeling of the dirt leave his hair, your fingers combing through each lock, nails gently rolling down his scalp all combine to make the tense muscles of his body relax. He tries not to starting dozing with the comfortability when he speaks again, ” _Whatever makes you happy, my love._ ” Jason quoted with a smile. He opens his eyes and admired yours, ”I love the way you talk, Y/N L/N.”

The candles bordering the bathtub lit your face with a heavenly honey glow, and it’s not even your beauty that makes Jason’s heart flutter. It’s your  _words_. Your infinite kindness and generosity that he knows he doesn’t deserve, knows that no one else will give him. His lips part and everything he’s ever wanted—ever  _needed_ —to say to you teases on the edge of his tongue. He closes his mouth in that stupidly, stubbornly, emotions-are-for-the-weakly way that Bruce and Gotham had drilled into him.

Maybe it’s just how you are. You’re the kind of person who had him take a “mental health day” from patrol and life in general, listened when he needed it, and gave him things he didn’t deserve. Maybe it’s also the fact that you’re the lost princess of a war-raged alien planet, with the addition that your race worshiped love, healing magic, and helping people who needed it most. And that’s certainly what Jason Todd is… someone who just needs a little healing.

“Thank you.” You giggled. You slick his bubbles and hair back in a single even stroke, then took a cup of water and proceeded to wash out the clouds. Jason finds himself grinning. Without warning, coarse hands take hold of your hips, water sloshes over the edge of the tub, and Jason is leaning over you.

“How are you so  _perfect?_ ” Jason questioned. He gave you one breath before he mercilessly attacked your sides, revealing at the shriek of happiness your produce. The water never settles with his rapid-fire movements. You tremble and shake and  _laugh_ , a beautiful laugh that makes Jason’s chest empty of the dark, murky emotions brewing in his stomach. The negativity is replaced by a light airiness, and he starts giggling too.

“ _Jason!_ ” You laugh happily, ”Sto-stop! I can’t—” Your thoughts are broken by a series of unrestrained giggles, ”I can’t _breathe!_ ” You coil around yourself protectively and try to pry his hands off of your sides. He pauses, pinning your arms to the bath’s edge (a grip you could easily break out of, if you learned anything Diana and Koriand’r had taught you), eyes searching your face for more reasons to fall in love with you.

You grin so hard your cheeks blush and ache, and it slips into an at-ease and  _safe_ smile. You feel safe with him. Even pinned underneath him— _him_ , a murderer, a liar, a traitor. Unknowingly, his thoughts had caused his grip to loosen. Slowly, like you were dealing with a startled wild animal than with a wet and naked man, you wind your arms around his neck.

“Why are you just staring at me, Jason?” You asked, palming his cheek. Jason can only shake his head and close his eyes, expelling whatever horrible self-hating thoughts he had brought down on himself. He bows his head and makes himself sensitive to your healing touch. Your fingers splay over his cheek, sloping with the shape of his skull, absent-mindedly strumming his bottom lip. Your other hand cups the base of his neck, wrapping around it protectively and soothingly massaging his skin.

He doesn’t deserve you. He never will if he’s going to do what’s right. But somehow, for some reason, the universe decided that he deserved at least  _one_ good thing in his life. The stars looked down on Jason Todd and gave him at least that mercy. The mercy that was everything in a life so draining.

But then again, maybe this isn’t a gift at all. Being Robin had been a gift in the beginning. Being Bruce Wayne’s son had been too. But both those dreams and so many others had been torn from his hands, even if he clung to them until his nails were bleeding and his fingers were broken. What if this was just another game again? The world giving him a shred of hope, a beautiful ray of sun that lit up the darkness within him, only to take it without warning or foreshadowing. How would it happen this time? How cruel would it be? Would he have to watch the Joker break you the same way he had broken himself? Or worse—would he have to be the one to do the breaking?

Lips press against his own with the intent of comforting. The reflection of a darker world is shattered, but Jason still steps on the shards as he moves to reciprocate. The pain overflows and spills over the edges, eagerly swallowing you whole and giving you a glimpse, just a glimpse, at the eternal abyss of pain belonging to the Red Hood. His previous thoughts consume him and suddenly the stubborn urge to hide in the way Bruce taught him evaporates. Jason walks through the cloud of steam and kisses you back with the loving vibrancy of a dying man.

Large hands palm your back and squeeze the flesh, sinking you into the cool, tiled wall and body rolling with your own. Gradually do your lips part. They reconnect after a breath and the cycle continues, until you finally make sense of what Jason’s whispering behind the sound of crashing water.

“I love you,” Jason promised. You are quickly distracted with another kiss, one accompanied by every comment Jason wanted to make, every compliment and praise caught in his throat, the trillions of  _thank yous_  that, as a whole, can never truly amount to just how thankful he is. He spits out the most romantic thing he can think of, ”You’re my whole damn  _world_ , and I swear to whatever sonofabitch who’s listening, I will  _never_ let anything bad happen to you, okay?”

Jason knows that he can do only so much to the prevent the inevitable. He says it anyway.

Jason inhales. He exhales.

When Jason opens his eyes, which he didn’t even realized he closed, you’re crying. His brow furrows and his mind grasps at whatever conclusions it can find; did he say something wrong? Did he say something  _else_? Did he hurt you?

When you draw him in close, in the closest way you’ve ever gotten before, he knows that he has done nothing wrong. You are  _smiling_. Blissfully so, in the way that always lit up the room and made Jason feel bad for not smiling. You nod, moreso to yourself than him, ”I love you too.”

You murmur a name that Jason can’t understand, too foreign to be even a human language. But Jason has heard that tone come from you so many times and recognizes it immediately as your home-planets royal language. He knows so little about this kind of vocabulary he has no idea what the true definition of the word means. But judging by the way you cup his face, smiling at him and refer to him by it, it means something good. 

Something romantic, something loving, something that Jason doesn’t deserve to be called.


	6. Subtext

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the beginning, there had been Robin and Batgirl. Jason Todd and Y/N L/N. Only the subtext of their actions can tell their ending.

You end the call with a sigh, a trio of bats shrieking somewhere far off in the Batcave. Bruce looks at you expectantly waiting for information, and you give it as you don your jacket, ”Jay needs me to come pick him up. It’s no big deal. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay?” Taking the keys from your pocket, you deliver a kiss to Tim’s cheek and another to Bruce’s, bidding Alfred goodbye with a half-hug. They deliver varying responses with varying degrees of care. Tim notices their not your keys, but Jason’s.

Putting the key into the ignition, you start his bike and take off down the street. Streetlights pass in circles along the stretch of Gotham’s roads, which get thinner and thinner as you enter downtown Gotham. Worry beats softly in your chest, the intensity of your concentration taken by the wind biting at your exposed skin and the path before you. It takes little to no time to get Jason, and the drive goes by too fast for your liking; the only adequate bike-riding gear you had is in the lockbox on Jason’s motorcycle, and it’s one of his leather jackets. The old faded leather smells so much like him your belly quivered pleasantly. It’s almost like he’s with you.

You kick out the kickstand, leveling the bike with your other foot as you look for him amongst the late-nighters of Gotham’s cruddier crowd. He’s drunk off his ass, and beaming at smiling at you all dopey. ”Jason,” You greet, amused at his expression and sudden clinginess. He embraces you, nearly clearing you from the ground as he does, ”Hey, babe! Thanks for coming to pick me up!” He giggles, settling your feet back onto the concrete. Jason doesn’t take his arms from your waist just yet, gaze suddenly hooded and lips cocked into a smirk,”You look really hot riding my bike.”

Smiling and blushing, you shake your head. He’s a bold drunk. Either way, Jason’s pretty bold sober and he’s always been incredibly blunt; he calls you  _babe_ even if you’re not dating, and comments like the latter aren’t exactly uncommon. Deciding he most likely won’t remember anything happening between the two of you currently, you let your blush show instead of threatening him—your usual response to his flirtations.

“C’mon, jackass, get on the bike.” You instruct, and Jason does so without complaint but… with difficulty. He nuzzled into your neck from behind, ”You smell good. Is that… (favorite fruit)?” He guesses casually. You nod, rolling your eyes as you put a helmet on him. He wraps his arms around you for more than one reason. Before you start the bike, you pointedly look at him through your own helmet as you take his hands and move them further up your torso. Jason giggles, ”Sorry, babe. Can’t keep my hands from wanderin’ when I’m with you.”

With a final playful look meaning  _“keep your hands above the waist, Jason”_ , you murmur, ”You’re lucky you’re charming, red.” Before taking off. Jason keeps his hands folded comfortably over your rib cage.

By the time you’re rising the steps to his apartment, Jason’s half passed out. He’s lucky you’re strong, otherwise the flight up seven floors would have been more of a hike up Mount Everest. ”Jason, give me your key,” You demand, having given him the keys to his bike. Jason giggles tiredly, ”Search me, officer.” He jokes, raising his arms in the proper manner. You realize he’s serious when he doesn’t move to grab them.

With an exasperated sigh, you pat him down, his giggles echoing down the hallway. Even if you’re trying to come off as uncaring as emotionless, it’s hard when he’s smiling and making flirty comments. When you pull the jingling bunch from his back pocket, he smiles, ”At least buy me dinner first.”

You pull Jason inside, making him shed his shoes. He can’t keep his eyes off your form.  _But it’s not like that’s anything new, you think_. There’s a chance he’ll  _do_ something in this state, so you take the chance to remind yourself that he’s just a natural flirt and he’s not into you. This chance comes in the form of a question, ”Meet any pretty girls tonight?” Usually, Jason would flaunt it and say things like,  _”oh, yeah, tons. I have at least three new numbers in my phone”_ or, _”if I wasn’t drunk off my ass I’d have one in bed by now”_  and you’d die a little on the inside. Assuming he’ll answer in the same way, you question him to torture yourself.

He refrains from this, watching your every move with his slim feline-esque eyes, the greened-blue now black in the moonlight. But his gaze is not predatory or even mildly threatening. It’s lovesick and adoring and  _dreamy_. As you wondered what doll made him act like this, you childishly hope that one day you’ll be in her shoes.

“A few,” Jason yawns,”But none as pretty as you, dove.”

You hate how your heart beats stupidly in your chest. Stupidly in love. All the nicknames are starting to get to you. Maybe if you pulled the Bruce card and acted like you hated them, he’d stop hugging you to his side and calling you “dove” or “babe”. It’s bad enough his voice, in general, makes you lose your train of thought, you don’t need nicknames meant for a significant other thrown at you in such a manner. Only Jason and Damian called you dove, and Damian always meant it tauntingly, usually to tease you for your crush on the Red Hood.

_“C’mon, dove, let’s get outta here.” Jason nods to the door, hanging his jacket over his shoulder by two hooked fingers. You begin to follow wordlessly, just a step behind. Damian tutts,”TT.” This makes you glare back at him with only half the commitment of a full threat. Damian mimics Jay’s tone, puffing up his chest and copying Jason’s body language perfectly, ”See you later,_ **dove** _.” He snickers into his breakfast as you walk away, ears and face steaming._

“I don’t wanna change, Y/N! I won’t look cool if I take off the jacket…” He whined. “Arms up.” You command. Jason raises his arms like a child anyway, chest puffed up to seem intimidating as he pouted beside his dresser. You slip his shirt over his head, smiling playfully,”And I will always think you’re cool, even without the jacket.” When Jason’s face surfaces from the fabric, he’s smiling sleepily, rubbing his fists into his eyes and looking at you like you’re the sun—no, the moon. His moon.

“Will you stay with me?” He whispers. You nod without thinking. And even if means you have to wait three hours for him to fall into unconsciousness, you’re going to stay. Jason slips off his jeans and his socks, collapsing into his bed. You pull a thin sheet over his form, sitting beside his legs.

Jason sighs through his nose, gesturing for you to come closer to his upper half. This brought back memories of sleepless nights. When Dick became Nightwing (and wore that ridiculous circus getup, with the feathers and the collar), you and Jason were Batgirl and Robin. Each of the Robins had a Batgirl as each of the Batgirls had a Robin, but for Damian and Cassandra. Tim had Stephanie, Dick had Barbara, Jason had you. It’s how things work and were made to be.

There would be nights when just you and him went out on patrol (with Bruce warning you of Jason’s recklessness, oblivious of your own jump-into-danger motto). That was really when you first started to fall in love with him. There was always something  _there_ , rippling between the two of you as you swung through the air. An unvoiced connection, an unshared energy never before sensed. That was when you knew he loved you as you loved him. When he’d look at you as you turned away, and where you’d catch him and giggle.

That connection had severed when Jason died. And to make matters worse, he remembered when he was brought back. He still looked at you, and you pretended you didn’t know he was staring. He’d perk up when you’d gaze at him across the room, only act like you were staring at something else. He pretends he doesn’t have nightmares about you being the one to die instead.

“You have helmet hair,” You whisper, tentatively raising your hand to ruffle the locks, your fingers catching on the tangles of black and white. Jason leans into your hand, yawning again and sliding his hand over yours, ”It’s all wavy. Do you like it, babe?” Jason wonders quietly. Swiftly retracing your hand from his, you play with them in your lap, murmuring an unsteady, ”Yeah.”

The rest of the night goes without incident. Jason wraps an arm around your waist in his sleep, resting at an awkward angle what with you sitting. He won’t let you move the limb, so you end up pinned to the bed and staring at every niche on his dresser, kicking yourself mentally for always doing this. Dick would and could have just as easily gotten Jason, and it might have even been easier since Dick was closer to the area. But no, you  _have_ to be so loyal, so  _committed_ to Jason. You urge for his attention and do little things for him, even though you know he won’t return the favor romantically. The late-night romance had never been a romance, but a friendship you had read into too quickly because Jason’s eyes simply went too deep.

Jason wakes up the following afternoon, head pounding. His headache is relieved by some pain medication and a glass of water placed strategically on his nightstand, to which a note is taped to.

_Hope you slept well, Jaybird - Dove_

Jason grins, hating himself as he falls deeper.

_

“Thank god you’re okay,” Jason moans, carefully tilting your face in his hands as he views the bruise. The purple bruise on your jaw made moving your lips painful, so you opted for a flustered silence as Jason holds your face. He still doesn’t drop his hands when Bruce says, ”You’ll have to stay at the manor for the time being, Y/N. That way we can protect you if they come back again.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” You say, trying not to move your jaw much,”I’m sure they won’t try breaking in again, and after today I’ll be more careful—” Jason cuts you off evenly, without flinching, without hesitation, ”She’ll stay with me.” Dick, Bruce, and Alfred carry out a silent conversation/argument with their eyes, which Dick seemingly wins as he gestures to you and Jason; Jason runs his hand over your jaw, slipping his thumb over your lip and clenching his teeth. You settle him by putting a hand on his arm. Bruce and Alfred exchange a glance, and Alfred nods. You’d be safest with Jason, because he’d die to protect you.

“Jason, that’s sweet of you, but I’ll be fine. You guys are freaking out over a bruise. I’ve been  _stabbed_ before and have been flipping over buildings like I didn’t have seven stitches keeping me together.” You argue. You’d be more threatening if you stand, but you can’t with Jason in your way and there’s no way you’re leaving his silk hold. Staying seated on the medical table, you grip its edge and glare at the other boys, ”I get it, you love me and you want me to be safe, but it’s just one guy. Bruce, if I can kick  _your_ ass, then this is nothing.”

Bruce pauses, either to make his next statement more serious or for dramatic effect, before turning around and walking to the Batcomputer, ”You’ll stay with Jason until the threat is taken care of.”

You pout, rolling your eyes and jumping off the table when Jason steps away, ” _Bruce_ …!” You shout in protest, but the sound fades timidly and he doesn’t turn around. Crossing your arms over yourself defensively, you shake your head, ”If it was  _Dick_ instead of  _me_ that got attacked by a stupid assassin, then no one would be freaking out.”

“Yeah, but it’s because we love you more than Dick.” Jason jokes (or is he being serious?), stepping forward to be at your side. You snort, which turns into subtle laughter as Dick slaps Jason on the arm,”Oh shut up, you love me!” Dick defends. Jason huff’s, ignoring the first Robin and turning back to you with a bit of a glint in his eye. He tosses his arm over your shoulder and begins to guide you out of the cave, ”What I mean is, no one messes with my girl.” He smirks. You rest your head against Jason as you smile to yourself.

“Don’t you mean _“our”_ girl? As the in the entire family’s?” You wonder.

Jason shakes his head, closing his eyes briefly so you can’t see the blatant love within his gaze, ”Nope,” He guides you up the steps to the exit of the cave, his voice echoing around the walls and the trophies as he assures you, ” _My_ girl.”

_

“I mean, sure, I think all of us would if things were different.” Dick admitted. Damian made a face, leaving Cassandra, Tim, Stephanie, and Barbara to agree with him through a shrug, ”I mean, yeah. Y/N’s pretty.” Barbara says. Dick pointedly looks at Damian,”See, I’m not crazy.”

Damian throws his hands up in disbelief, ”Y/N has enough men on her tail as it is! She has Todd shadowing her like a lost puppy, not to mention every officer on the Gotham police force whistling at her! I have beat up three of her exes, and I do not need you to be one of them.”

You and Damian high-five as he finishes the statement, just as Jason scoffs, ”I don’t follow her around, demon-spawn. Nevermind like a lost puppy…” He defends, distracting Dick from the fact Damian sucker-punched each of your previous significant others. Tim raises an eyebrow, ”Then how come you’re here?”

“Because Y/N brought me!” Jason yells without thinking, digging his own grave a little deeper. Stephanie points at Jason with her fork, ”You just proved his point.” She laughs through her food. Jason rolls his eyes as the group joins her in various volumes, smile quirking as you run your hand through his hair and coo, ”Oh, leave him alone. I gave him permission to follow me like a puppy.”

“When?” Barbara questions in confusion, facial expression overcome with skepticism. You and Jason look at each other and you blush. Jason seems to have given up being shy. ”When we first started going out on patrol together. I’d go in and face whoever we were fighting, with Jason following me in and jumping out of nowhere. It was our battle strategy.” You lied. Tim saw through it, but only voiced his suspicion with a low,” _Mhmm._ ” As he bit into his toast.

In reality, it was your words whispered and carried over Gotham by the wind, after an ex (your present boyfriend at the time) had accused Jason of liking you romantically. You both knew it was true, and you both knew that you loved him and he loved you.

_“He’s right. I do follow you around, I do look at you in ways I shouldn’t, I do—… we’re too close.” Jason drops his head,”I’m sorry, Y/N…”_

_“Jason.” You lift his chin, steadying your hands against his shoulders. Jason looks away from you, anything to avoid your gaze. And yet your demand for attention is too strong, and he forces himself to look at you. You smile crookedly at him, ”I like it when you do those things. I like that we’re too close. It’s not too close, it’s our close. I want to stay that close, I want you to keep following me and looking at me.” You correct._

_Jason mirrors your smile nervously, ”You know I’ll always be behind you, right?” He mutters._

_You can only squeeze his hand as it collects yours, ”I want you behind me, Jason. I want you.”_

Your gaze drops from his as you both remember, face suddenly boiling,”Now can we stop talking about how everyone has a crush on me? Everyone has a crush on Dick, too, but we don’t focus on that.” You joke desperately. They all drop the subject with knowing looks. Behind them, Jason’s hand falls on your lower back. But he isn’t done embarrassing the two of you, and returns to it, ”What  _I’m_  interested in is your sudden interest in my woman, Grayson.” He says daringly.

“ _Your_ woman?” Dick echoes teasingly, raising his brows. With a glance at you, Jason confirms again, ” _My_ woman.”

“I didn’t know you two were…” Dick smirks, trailing off and leaning in as if it would help him gather more information. Dick waits for your answer rather than Jason’s, interrupting your silent pleas for help directed at the others not taking part in the conversation. You cross your arms, laying them over the counter of the kitchen island, ”It’s…” You trace Jason’s profile with your eyes, still turned on Dick in challenge, ”…  _complicated_.” You admitted quietly.

At this Jason looks at you, eyes alight with something that might be anger and might also be him giving up. Biting his lip, he summons all his courage, twists so he’s facing you fully and bluntly says, ”You call kissing me on a rooftop after telling me you want me,  _“complicated”_?” He questions.

Damian shoots up, slamming his fists on the counter and furiously facing you and Todd,” _What?!_ ” He shrieks. Dick begins to laugh heartily as the others respond, blurring the room with shouting and laughter. Stephanie begins to shake Tim, while they both scream about how he  _“was right”_  and how they  _“knew it all along”._  Barbara is trying to keep in laughter, stifling it by holding her fist to her mouth. Cassandra alone remains quiet, eating her cereal and watching the scene play out around a spoonful of Lucky Charms, an amused smile on her face.

Your blush deepens, expression flickering from one emotion to the next with every ensuing reaction. Jason’s angry at himself, at everything, as he tends to overreact and he does just that now. He always imagined after he’d been dead and gone for so long that you’d forgotten him, forgotten what he felt like above you and how much you loved him. Even after life and even after death, Jason remembered how the adoration poured out of him like an infinite mess of emotions and gracelessness. But no, how could you ever forget Jason Todd?

“Yeah,” You murmur, watching his eyes blink down at yours like your the whole world and he has to save you, ”… Complicated.”

_

The cliche-ness of it all is truly astounding, but Jason is too preoccupied with your figure to relate to every man in his situation. You saunter towards them—at least, it looks like a saunter, or maybe a sashay. Either way, you approach him and smile, ”I know I said you can stare at me Jason, but buy a girl dinner first.” You joked, making his heart capsize and his knees plan to buckle. His mind begins to wander as do his eyes over your dress.

“I just might, babe.” Jason smirks in response, grappling for the suave composure you usually instill in him as he adjusts his tie. You swat his hands away and fix it properly, pressing it down while simultaneously running your fingers down his chest. It’s been too long since you’ve returned his affections in such an obvious way. Jason feels a frisson roll through him, urging him to scoop your hand in his and raise your knuckles to his lips.

He keeps eye contact as he leans down, the kiss against your skin lasting longer than it should. You lick your lips absent-mindedly, face flushing as you fold your arms. How did one look make you feel so self-conscious? He reminds you of your shared status as the best friend with the comment, ”You’ll hide by the buffet with me, right? So I don’t have to talk to any of Bruce’s fancy friends?”

You step towards him, glancing around the grandiose event shyly, ”I was about to ask you the same thing, Jay. C’mon.” You take Jason’s extended arm tentatively. The other bat boys and girls left behind exchange knowing looks, shaking their heads and muttering under their breaths.

It was in the subtext of the conversation that urges you both do be more daring. Obvious. It was so  _obvious_. It was there, you both knew it, you both felt it. And yet you didn’t reach out or make  _the_ move. It’s like you’re dating already, with the little touches Jason leaves on your back and the way you graze his arm. Jason wouldn’t openly call you his girlfriend and vice versa, but it’s there. In a way, you are together, without the labels but with the  _“I love you”_ s.

This is proven after you were (reluctantly) pulled into a circle of teenage girls gossiping about the other guests. You just want to go back to Jason, especially because most of the girls and stuck up and rich. Jason’s staring at you wistfully and almost uncomfortably; he’s also been approached by a businessman attempting to get closer to Bruce through his kids. You’re about to make an excuse to leave when a voice perks up and a man elbows his way into the circle, ”Um, excuse me, ladies.”

Some of the girls drop into a curtsy with blushing faces, others stutter and whisper. This man makes his way to you, and you pale visibly at the flirtatious look in his eyes. He drops his hand to your back and guides you out of the circle,”You must be Ms. L/N, Bruce Wayne’s protege?” He guesses. He flashes a dazzling smile as you stutter, awkwardly trying to get away, ”Yeah, um, that’s me…” He assumes this is you being flustered and his smile extends, thinking he’s winning.

“Well, Ms. L/N, the cameras don’t do your beauty justice.” You guess he’s some kind of royalty judging by the patches on his suit and the looks others are giving you, ”You are so much more beautiful than I imagined.” He compliments. Oh, so he’s  _that_ kind of royalty. ”I’m Prince (Name) of (Country). It is an honor to meet you.”

You breathe a sigh of relief when another hand curves around your waist. Jason doesn’t bother with courtesy, which makes sense for Jason. Bluntly, he pulls you away from the prince, not breaking eye contact with him as he speaks to you, ”Babe, there you are. I was just telling Roy about that one time you sat on my face.” The Prince blushes angrily, suddenly mortified as Jason pulls you away.

“Sat on your face? Really?” You whisper. Jason chuckles in your ear, gently rubbing your back, ”He made you uncomfortable, I returned the favor for you.” Jason delivers, glancing back at the blushing prince with a smug expression. Regardless of how he did it, Jason did save you from the situation. Your smile is crooked when you gaze up at him, ”Well, thank you, Jason.” You sigh.

Jason kisses the side of your head, ”No problem, dove.”

_

“Did you get me a present?” Jason teases, resting his elbow on the table and cupping his face. You tilt the birthday hat on his head so it’s centered, swiping the cake off his cheek and licking it off your thumb, ”Maybe I did.” You retort, ”Maybe I didn’t.”

Jason’s eyes dance, reflecting the light like the ocean reflects sunshine. You lean over the table so you’re facing him, crossing your arms and smiling.Jason gasps in fake hurt, flirtatiously cocking his head to the side,”Did you not get me anything?” He puts his free hand over his heart, ”That hurts, dove.”

The others are eating their cake in the dining room, and you hear their laughter echoing as someone makes a joke. Plates clink and cutlery shines. The presents around Jason are piled in an organized way, wrapping paper thrown away and gifts aligned in rows. The stars seemed to be aligned, too, if this is really happening.

You play along, pouting in mock-guilt as you swirl your finger around the table in meaningless designs, ”I’m really,  _really_ sorry, Jay. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” You meet his gaze again, and he’s so focused on you that you finally understand. They say that  _the world will stand still whenever your eyes meet._ And it’s true. You’re suspended, floating; you’re the only thing he finds interesting in this room, the only thing he wouldn’t dare tear away from.

Jason licks his lips. He looks skyward, humming as he tries to come up with a solution like he hasn’t already. He perks up, leaning closer to you, ”Oh… I think I have something you could do to make me feel better, dove.” You want here him say it, you want him to say those words that he said that night when everything felt alright. Because when he says those two words, everything  _does_ feel right. It makes everything alright.

“What can I do, Jason?” You lean closer, your hand flattening against the table’s surface. The nickname still gets’s you, still makes your heart pound. You know that he knows what he does to you when he says that name, because the smile finally reaches his eyes and alight them with mischief.

“I think you know.” Jason says daringly. He’s really dragging this out. But every moment only builds the meter you’ve created, rising every time his hand touches your waist and he calls you that name. It rises every time you call him after a nightmare and when you embrace him after knowing he’s safe. Jason Todd is your ideal, and the moment you’ve dreamt of since he came back is here.

“No, no…” You shake your head minimally, not breaking the staring contest you’ve entered and never want to leave, ”I don’t think I do know.” His hand rests over yours, and you’re so close now his nose is skirting against your cheek. ”What can I do, Jason?” You whisper in his ear again.

Jason grins, and the action is so  _him_ it hurts to breathe. That mischievous smile before you break into action together, when you hug him and tell him how much you missed him, the part of him that’s still the reckless Robin you fell in love with coming back into the light. You both pause, letting the breath hang there and the ambiance overtake you and then blur before your lives change. Jason’s done with playing coy, and so are you.

“Kiss me.” He pleads softly, with the passion of a thousand warriors fighting for their home, voiced at the level at which a butterfly’s wing flutters.

And then the boundary of the table is gone and Jason is kissing you and you’re kissing Jason. His lips are everything you’ve ever liked, blurred into an action and one motion. He’s everything you’ve ever loved. His hair is silk between your fingers as nothing folds into everything. The heat of his breath against your cheek, his nose pressing into yours, his tongue rolling along your bottom lip. It’s everything.  _He’s_ everything.

_“It’s not that far of a fall, Y/N. But really, you don’t need to worry. I’ll catch you.”_

_“Jason, it’s okay to cry when you’re with me. Crying isn’t a weakness, it’s just a way to get rid of all your negative emotions, so it’s okay to cry. We’ll cry together, my sweet Robin.”_

_“He’s right. I do follow you around, I do look at you in ways I shouldn’t,”_

_“I want you behind me, Jason. I want you.”_

_“ **My** girl.”_

_“I adore you… I think I even love you, Robin.”_

_“I know I love you, dove.”_

_“I don’t care about what they say about you. Jason, you’re perfect.”_

_“Kiss me.”_

You part barely far enough to be appropriate, cheeks aching from smiling and lips swollen from the best kiss of your lives. Taking heavy breaths, you smooth Jason’s hair back into place, and he caresses your cheek with his thumb. He’s still beaming when he says, ”I love you, dove.”

You cup his neck, planting a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth, ”And I love you, my sweet Robin.”

**_**

**Bonus:**

Jason blinks slowly, the blush on his face reddening as his eyes darken, ”I don’t think that made up for you not getting me something on my birthday.” Gaze half-lidded and smirk intact he adds, ”But I think I know something else we can do that will definitely make me feel better.” He teases.

You slap his arm and let out a cry of outrage, and Jason starts laughing hysterically. ”Shut up!” You yelled over Jason’s cackling. He settles, giggling, ”You know you want to, babe.” Seeing the look on your face, Jason makes a mad dash for the door, laughing his ass off as you begin to chase after him.

“Get back here,  _TODD!_ ”


	7. Lucky Bastard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy gets a new girlfriend, a beautiful girl with the strength of Superman and a heart as bright as the sun. Everyone seems to notice, including Jason Todd, and… you.

_“I missed you,” Jason says. You can’t help but smile a little giddily to yourself when he drops his duffel bag, so you try and settle it into something more peaceful and inviting instead of the pure excitement brewing in your stomach when he approaches. Jason wraps his arms around you in a hug that was clearly meant to be friendly, but his nose goes too deep into your neck and your arms knot too tight around him. He slips far enough out of your embrace to view your face. Jason smiles when he does, and it seems that, for once, he isn’t as good as covering his excitement or mutual attraction as you are.”You’re just as beautiful as I remembered.”  
_

You try and fix this into your mind as the party continues. When Koriand’r had mentioned a Titans party, inviting old and new members, you had been elated to go. You hadn’t talked to Starfire since you left the team to tend to Themyscira in one of its times of crisis, and when you returned you found yourself mourning your boyfriend, Jason Todd, and replaced by Cassie Sandsmark as Wondergirl. But you adored Cassie—she was technically your younger sister, even if you were given life by Aphrodite and not Zeus—and still do now, so you held no grudges. As a princess of Themyscira and an Amazon, you weren’t raised to hold grudges. That’s why when Dick pulls your best friend Kori onto the dance floor, you smile and tell him to treat her well.

Jason would have been your second choice (or third, but you were unsure if M’Gann M’orzz and Karen Beecher would be present). This was only because of your previous relationship, and the new one that had been going on and off for years ever since his return. You can see him and yourself, freshly Titans and freshly heroes, leaning against one each other and the rooftop and overlooking San-Francisco.

_“I’m a little scared, to be honest,” Jason said. He always said his Ts really strong, like he was hissing or scoffing at someone. When he says his Ts this time, they don’t hiss, and that’s what worries you. He tilts his head to the side, ”I mean, I like Bats. I like going to school now, school’s fun,” Jason smiles, and you brighten with him. ”I love it there.”_

_On Themyscira, your studies had always been your safe haven when you were teased by the other Amazons. You were one of the few, like Diana, who had been born on the island instead of brought there by a goddess. Eurybe was Hippolyta’s right-hand and your own personal tormentor. The kind of person who was an angel in front of adults and a hell-demon when they left. She called you Pyxis—which is a Greek jewelry box, something to hold jewels or lipgloss. It was a reminder that you weren’t a warrior, like your mother Diana and all the other Amazons. You were just a pretty showpiece stuffed with diamonds to become prettier. That’s why you hid behind books and cried behind them, too. Eury laughed when she learned you had become a Titan._

_Jason continues. ”But what if I’m not as good as Nightwing was? What if I can’t live up to the bat’s expectations?” He asked, more himself than you._

_Hesitantly, you laid your hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle smile. "I believe that you will be a perfect Robin, Jason. You have already made me, a demigoddess, proud, so I can assure you that Batman and Nightwing will be proud too.”_

_“You’re proud of me?” Jason asked. His hands inched toward yours on the ledge. You grinned at him, ”Very much so, Mr. Todd.” You playfully nudged his shoulder, and Jason nudged yours back. To hold your balance you settle your hand on the roof’s surface, directly over Jason’s. When he shows no complaint, you keep it there._

The main floor of Titan’s Tower is packed with not only previous Titans, but plus ones and twos, mentors and their wards, and you even spot some parents in the crowd. (Wally West is cringing as his mom hits the dance floor. You think she’s a wonderful dancer). Jason had pulled you from your “lonesome”, as he had stated, by the bar and over to the couches with Roy and his girlfriend.

Her name was Myand’r, another refugee of Tamaran that had assisted Kori in her escape from the Psions, and was quiet but absolutely  _gorgeous_. Everyone around you had taken to calling her Mya, and Mya clung to the nickname and your friends with a newfound vibrancy. You didn’t blame her; instead of ending up with the Titans, she fell into Deathstroke’s hands and was played by him into assisting with multiple crimes. But, beautifully and gracefully so, she atoned for her misdeeds and became someone almost everyone instantly trusted.

“We started training a few months back, and she’s  _amazing_!” Roy exclaimed, his chest puffed and his chin raised. He pulled her long, smooth pretty legs over his lap and grinned at her, ”You’re amazing, babe.”

“Roy,” She said, with a regal tone you used to practice in the mirror, the one you still couldn’t get right. She pats his hand as it rested on her knee, ”You don’t need to brag about me, as sweet as you are…”

“No, no, don’t stop now. I’m interested.” Jason chimed, taking a sip of his beer. Your gaze lowered to your feet without thinking, and you began to blindly zone out while playing with your ankle bracelet; the one that Donna had made for you, with beautiful red and blue gemstones. There was a single E/C rock that she had strung where your shin began, and you remembered her holding it next to your eye,”Oh, yes. This is the one.” She said that it was supposed to give you confidence. Either she had just said that or the charm had worn off because you didn’t feel confident at all right now.

Myand’r was truly, as Roy said, amazing. According to him, she was not only absolutely stunning (something your own eyes had proved for you), but she had combat abilities that easily allowed her to “kick Batman’s ass”, strength that could counter Superman’s, and starbolts that were like “a thousand bees stinging you at once”. To pour more salt in an open wound, she apparently hadn’t been bullied as a child and had perfect grades in school, was studying at a human university to get a veterinarian’s degree (she loved animals, and all animals seemed to love her, which you discovered thanks to Beast Boy), and happened to volunteer regularly. Out of subconscious habit—in every way every Amazon had taught you not to—you compared yourself to her.

Maybe you were too lanky, or maybe Diana hadn’t made a goddess when she carved you from the earth, or the constant behind-the-scene ridicule from your sisters in arms. But you pushed back these thoughts and brought forward your pride for this woman; she is amazing, and that is very true, and you are a respectful princess who is glad she is so amazing. Amazing enough for Jason to eye her legs and smile when she talks all night. Amazing enough for you to stand up and disappear without anyone’s noticing, which you hadn’t intended at all.

The roof of Titan’s Tower has a view and a history that are famed but unspoken. The first thing that comes to mind is your and Jason’s first kiss, along with several other members of the team. The sun set over one side of the roof and rose on the other, sometimes glimmering its great reflection over the water, other times hiding tiredly amongst the buildings on the coast.

_“I’m a master marksman! I can totally get a grape in your mouth, even if you suck at catching it.” Jason challenged._

_“Are you suggesting that I can’t catch a grape in my mouth, Jason Todd? I can do plenty of things with my mouth!” You shouted accusingly, but then paled and covered your face when you realized what you said. Jason rolled over laughing, and you through a grape at him and scoffed, ”Oh, whatever! You know what I mean!”_

_“I sure hope you can do a lot of things with your mouth.” Jason cackled, clutching his stomach and laying back on the picnic blanket. You through another grape at him to distract him from your blush, and he shot up and caught it. With a grin, he quickly chewed and swallowed it down, ”I’ve heard I’m pretty good with my mouth, too.”_

_“Ha! I doubt it!” You laughed. He always had the magical ability to retrieve you from your shell, guide you into a world that wasn’t perfect Themyscira or the more perfect Palace Library. You snickered behind your hand, ”The only thing that mouth can do is get you in trouble.”_

_Jason sighed through his nose, and after a moment’s pause, he pointed at you and smirked cheekily,“I bet that I can prove you wrong.”_

_You rolled your eyes, ”With what? A cherry stem? That’s not exactly impressive.”_

_Jason’s gaze suddenly deepened, and he subconsciously closer,”That’s not really what I had in mind.” He licked his lips as he surveyed your own. Suddenly the tips of your ears were red and you giggled embarrassedly. Gently, hesitantly, with the pure kindness that Jason had always had somewhere inside of him, he turned your cheek so you were face to face. He released a shaky breath through his nose and he tried to retain his slipping confidence. When Jason smiled, it was boyish and awkward,”Can I kiss you?”_

_You’d never kissed a boy before. Jason was really the only boy on the team that you interacted with daily, besides your team leader Nightwing or the occasional chat with Beast Boy. He was also the first boy you’d ever had a crush on. You swallowed, thanked Hera that you brushed your teeth before coming up here, and nodded._

_Jason dropped his hand from your face, and you both closed your eyes at the same time. There was a moment where you couldn’t find the other’s lips, which made Jason laugh and break off a bit, before you steadied your hands uneasily on his shoulders and kissed him. Well, you tried to anyway. It took you a moment to realize that kissing involved movement instead of just sitting there, so you tried to match Jason’s rhythm and ended up only half-successful. Regardless, it was your first kiss, so when you and Jason pulled away you were beaming._

_“Okay,” You caved, hands twitching on Jason’s shoulders, ”Maybe you’re more than just “okay” at kissing…”_

_Jason burst into giggles and nodded, a “thanks” slipping out somewhere between him sighing when you cupped his neck and grinning when you kissed him again._

“What’re you doing up here, princess?” Jason questioned smoothly. He kicks the rooftop access door shut with his foot, then props himself up against it. He’s close enough for your fingers to brush his thigh when you reach out. Instead, your hands play with the intricate folds of your [color] toga, the fabric pulling around your chest when you shrugged. There is no smile to hide at the nickname.

There is a long pause where you realize he is surveying you, and so you hide your expression behind your hair and turn your head. But Jason Todd is Jason Todd, and so he quirks his head to the side with a smirk. There’s something different in it, though. It’s not an “I know what you’re up to” smirk, or even the ever familiar “you’re utterly gorgeous so I’m going to wow you with my charm and pretty mouth” smirk, but the smirk that means he’s comprehended something… and it’s something that he doesn’t like.

“I didn’t know you were into Roy,” Jason commented.

Now, you push your hair out of the way and shake your head, ”What? No. Jason, he’s your best friend, and he’s  _taken_. Why would I ever—?”

“What, are you into Mya then or…?” Jason guessed. You shook your head respectfully, but laughed regardless, ”She is a beautiful, perfect woman, but she is also taken and I’m not that kind of person.” More quietly, you added,”I noticed you had taken a liking to her…”

Jason hums, and then pushes off the door with an  _“Oh.”_  This time you can decipher it’s meaning immediately; this is a sound of understanding too, but it’s pleasant and possibly surprising. Jason knows something that you don’t. And, apparently, it’s something good.

He settles down next to you, filling the cool, high air with warmth and the scent of his favorite cologne. You couldn’t really describe it other than that it was sort of artificial but also manly, and it had been one called “Lucky Bastard” that you got him a while ago. Without meaning to you find your bodies gravitating toward one another. Jason’s eyes fall to your sandals and stay there, until he finally speaks. Judging by his sudden boldness, and he had to build up his confidence in order to speak,”So then that must be you’re into me, huh?”

The statement doesn’t hit you as hard as either of you really expect. You’ve been on and off since the beginning, and the beginning was a forever ago. Even if it sometimes wasn’t obvious things like kissing, he’d still hug you after he returned from his crusades, and you’d still answer his post-nightmare phone calls. There were even those special nights without confusing feelings or statements. There was no distance on those nights, only closeness, and the kind of closeness only two people in love could ever feel and create.

The smell of Lucky Bastard is enticing, and so when Jason presents the opportunity you lean your head against his shoulder. You tilt up your head just enough for you to get a proper look at his eyes. They are the eyes you realize you miss and the eyes you realize welcomed you to man’s world. In a way, they are the first eyes in this new world that have never judged you for always hiding behind books. You were never a true Amazon—a warrior, a fighter—just a scholar who was sometimes an okay princess too.

“You know I always have been, Jason.” You told him.

Jason smiled, and you felt his arm coil around your waist and hold you against his side. He is warm and inviting. Always so inviting, with that same smell he’s always managed to have regardless of where he’s been. On Themyscira, everything smells so exotic and foreign, sharp fruits with even sharper colors, so bright that it stings to inhale. But Jason Todd’s scent isn’t overbearing but does envelope you in his strange world; a world that he has shown you how to love, and made you fall in love with simply because he is a piece of it.

“Yeah.” Jason turned his head so your temple rested against his cheek, and you feel it curve as he smirks, ”I figured you you’d fall for my boyish charm eventually, princess.”

“I have.” You admitted. Jason twisted his top half so your faces met, allowing you to wrap your arms around his shoulders. He is grinning. Grinning like a little boy, like Robin, and for a guilty second, you wish that’s who you were looking at instead of the man he is now. But the thought diminishes. Jason Todd is still Robin, even if he won’t admit it. Jason Todd is still Robin, especially in moments where he smiles and laughs like he used to. You see Robin in his eyes when he looks at you, ”And sometimes I question if “princess” is a term of endearment or you respecting my title…”

“I think it can be both, my princess,” Jason whispered. He murmured like he only wanted you to hear, like the rooftop of Titan’s Tower was your own haven, where that same closeness is shared and Robin is still in Jason’s eyes. You feel his heartbeat’s pace run rabid underneath your hand. But he is pressing your palm there, a silent reminder that you no longer need to mourn, that he is alive and humming with life beneath your fingers.

“Now  _that’s_ a term of endearment,” You giggled. But then you realize just how close your and Jason’s bodies are, and how he keeps glancing down at your lips every second he thinks that you’re not looking. With a start, you slip out of his hold and stand up.

“Sorry,” You coughed at Jason’s forlorn expression, ”I—I think I left my bag downstairs. I don’t want anyone to steal it…”

Jason, clouded with confusion and guilt, instantly blames himself for your hasty need for departure. Determined to fix it, he jumps to his feet and furrows his brows, ”Princess, where are you going? What did I do?”

“Nothing, Jason.” You bowed your head at yourself and shook it, turning senselessly for a way out of the awkwardness you had just created. Ruining the moment was your specialty. Hell, ruining things was your real superpower. ”It’s nothing. I gotta go.”

“Princess,” Jason begged. He deftly finds his hand around your wrists, slipping it into your own and pulling you back so you’re face to face in a single, expertly maneuvered motion. The air is stolen from your lungs when he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. His gaze is so concerned, almost mad with growing guilt and biting thoughts directed inward. ”You know you can tell me. You can always tell me.”

_“Hey, what’s wrong?” Robin leaned over you. Gently, he brought you into his embrace and rocked your crying form against his, ”You know you can tell me. You can always tell me.”_

“I just—I don’t—I don’t want this to be another cycle.” You sighed.

Jason opened his mouth, almost to argue, but then shut it and bobbed his head for you to continue.

“We’re on and off all the time. I haven’t seen you in almost two weeks, and then before that it was three months. You’re gone all the time, I never know where you are and I—I miss you, Jason. But I don’t want this to last for two days and then you’re gone again.” You turned your gaze to the view, the coast’s waters grasping at the shore with its great hands before retreating with a layer of surface sand. ”Besides. I’m sure you could find someone better.”

Jason snorts earnestly, but then he understands you’re being serious and scoffs,”Baby, there is no one better. And I’m not just saying that to woo you.” He gradually draws you closer, and soon his large hand is cupping your cheek, ”You’re the only person—better, a literal, actual goddess who has somehow found her way to me and decided to stay—who’s crazy enough to still be here when I throw my tantrums and start arguments.”

“Everyone leaves.” Jason says sternly, softly, and he shakes your sides a little bit to force the words deeper into your skin. ”But look at you. You’re still  _here_. So just—I’ll-I’ll stay this time too, okay? No leaving. No on and off. Just you and me, princess. That’s all I want.”

You examine Jason’s face. Robin’s image in his eyes is not as strong as it was earlier, but he is still there and grappling with Jason’s conscience. Jason is trying to dull just how frantic he is to keep you from leaving or dying like everyone else.

“I want that too.” You whispered, nodding.

“Perfect.” Jason breathed, relieved. Awkwardly, he let go of you and turned his head to the side, ”Can I—” He clears his throat, ”—can I kiss you now?”

You thanked Hera that your toothbrush was in your purse, and that as an excuse to leave you went into the bathroom and brushed your teeth. So when Jason asks, you swallow your doubt and bob your head. But instead of Jason kissing you, you are kissing him and with all the love energy you are capable of blessing him with.

Jason breaks off with an exhale, and his face is flushed hot and he looks a little dazed. With a grin, he licks your taste off his lips, ”Okay.” Jason smiled, ”I guess you’re more than just “okay” at kissing, too.”


	8. Welcome Home, Jason Todd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason can’t go back to the Manor. You believe otherwise.

“One night.” You held up a single, solitary finger, pressing the sternness shown on your face into your voice.

“No.” Jason said flatly.

“One  _dinner_.” You corrected yourself, prodding his chest once. With a defiance found commonly in your demeanor, you planted your hands on your hips and huffed up at him, stubborn.

“No.” Repeated Jason, sarcastically copying your stance.

With a dramatic whine of protest you slipped your arms around his waist, and without pause, squished your cheek against his heart. ”Oh, c’mon, Jaybird!” You cried, trying to push him back without much effort. Instead, your feet ended up sliding against the floor without moving the either of you, Jason’s socks planted firmly into the floor.

“Y/N,” Jason sighed. He clutched the bridge of his nose and shook his head, ”Look, we’re not on good terms anymore. I can’t just go a-knockin’ on Bruce’s door and expect him to let me in without an argument of some kind. There are a dozen things he could say to me, and I don’t want to hear even one of them. You’re not doing this.”

“No, Jason, I am.” You challenged. With a huff, you turned away from his unrequited embrace and hugged yourself instead, glaring heavily at the messy piles of books on your coffee table. With your sudden silence the rain’s whisper had grown to yelling, banging on your windows and demanding to be let into your and Jason’s little apartment. The raindrops cast shadows across your freckled flooring in the dull afternoon’s flint colored sky. It turned your living room into one, great, pointillism painting that expressed the heart of Gotham at one of it’s angrier times.

“You don’t get to hear what they say about you,” you lowered your voice, taking a deep breath and bowing your head, ”Bruce asks about you  _all the time_ , and so does Dick. Tim always reminds me to make sure you take your meds. Damian asks if you’re coming to the Manor soon—and when he asks me if one of his favorite brothers is coming to his birthday party in three days, what do you want me to tell him?”

“Don’t try and guilt trip me into this,” Jason said. It sounded like he was trying to be threatening, but at the same time, it sounded like your methods were succeeding.

“Don’t tell me you don’t miss them then.” You said. His regret and his guilt were so palpable you were sure you could breathe them in and choke on them. Maybe that’s why there was a lump in your throat. When Jason took a step towards you and tried to wrap his arms around your body, you turned with him and wore deep, sad lines in your face as you frowned. Carefully, you placed your hand on his heart,”Don’t you… don’t you remember everything that happened there?”

Jason swallowed.”Some… some stuff. The important bits, some little pieces. But not everything.”

“Well, do you remember the times when Bruce finally took a break from work to have dinner with us? Then you and I would  _beg_ Alfred to eat with us too so the table didn’t seem so huge and empty. We’d sit around and just  _chatter_ ; about the food, about school, about us.” You skimmed your thumb against Jason’s chest and leaned in, whispering expressively,”Don’t lie to me and say you don’t want that back.”

Jason pursed his lips into a thin, pale line upon his shadow-freckled cheeks. The only thing he could seem to say was,”I bet that table’s pretty small now.”

“Bruce never got a different one,” You shrugged, then added with a slight smile,”…You hated how big that table was. Used to say how it only felt bigger when it was just us sitting there. All empty.” You looked up at him pointedly,”I’m sure it doesn’t seem as big  _now_ …”

Your boyfriend’s shoulders began to tense, coiling and forcing him back in on himself, but you soothed the ache by kneading the now-unwinding muscle with your other hand. Jason exhaled his stress through his nose and laid his hand on the one you held on his chest, smelling of caramel and licorice, things deep and dusky and secretly sweet. When he smiles it is barely there, but that doesn’t matter. Jason still smiles, a broken little thing that has yet to change over so much time. It still makes you want to smile, want to kiss, want to give everything until he’s happier than words can express.

“Fine. We’ll go to the kids damn birthday party,” Jason said, and immediately, you flung your arms around his neck and squealed with delight. Caught off guard, he went red when you began to pepper his neck and face with kisses, each one encouraging him to capture your hips and press his nose to your cheek. You felt his grin on your skin,” _But_ , only if I can pick out the demon spawn’s gift… hmmm… and, you have to kiss me.”

You pulled your lips from Jason’s jaw and smiled,”That’s a win-win in my book, boy wonder.”

“Don’t call me that.” Jason teased, playfully glaring as his eyes lowered to your lips,” _Bat-geek_.”

_

Today had been, as the majority of Alfred Pennyworth’s days were, another push towards the great abyss of insanity. When he entered the room to awake young Master Damian with his birthday breakfast, he found him suspended from the ceiling like a bat (of course), and had apparently been in that position all night.  _I’m practicing blood-rush tolerance, Pennyworth_ , Damian had said snootily,  _and I have been doing so for the last six hours. Care to join me?_

Damian hanging from the ceiling was one thing, him making jokes was another, and Tim and Cassandra wrestling in a sibling-conflict that lead to Cass breaking the dining room table with Tim was another. There were about a dozen other things about to bring the aging Butler one step closer to a heart attack, and he thought—hoped,  _prayed_ even—hearing a knock on the door when everyone had already arrived wouldn’t be one of them. And of course, it was.

Alfred see’s Ms. L/N first. The second Batgirl and, in his opinion, the most…  _rambunctious_ of the several girls in their family. That was appropriate. For if Y/N was the second Batgirl, then assuming that the second Robin—who only ever caused mischief around the Wayne household—was to be on her arm at every hour of the day was not a large stretch. But with Jason’s death and the events following only the former of the pair ever seemed to show. Alfred had expected Ms. L/N. He had not expected Master Todd.

They are hand in hand, as they always seemed to be. It reminded Alfred of the days when she would drag him about the Manor, their small hands entwined so intricately they would never untie, smiling and whispering into each other’s ears behind cupped palms (usually about the prank they were about to pull on Master Richard). Underneath the cover of an umbrella the two are protected by a leather jacket and a slick, black raincoat respectively. Y/N’s darling face splits into a grin. Jason’s is the same and twice as genuine.

“Hey, Al,” Jason greets. His voice is deep. Had it always been that deep?

“Master Jason, Ms. Y/N,” Alfred calls in surprise. His eyes widen, and without hesitation, he swings open the door and welcomes them into their home,”It is very good to see you attending Master Damian’s party. I’m sure he’ll be glad to see the both of you.”

The second Alfred closes the door, you wrap your arms around him and grin into his shoulder, ”Likewise, Alfie!” With a kiss to his cheek and another to Master Jason’s, Y/N slips the bag with Damian’s gift and jogs down the hall. Jason smiles when she kicks open the parlor door and shouts,” _Wassup, my bitches!_ ” Alfred grimaces when the door splintered.

Dick comes out of nowhere, practically tackling her around the waist and spinning her on his shoulder, chanting, ”Lit-tle  _wing_ , lit-tle  _wing_!” Voices Jason recognizes as Tim’s, Stephanie’s, Harper’s, Barbara’s, Duke’s, then what can only be Bruce drumming to Dick’s beat on the coffee table and Cassandra joining him. The only thing that has changed is the volume and who’s shouting what. Jason can see Dick swooping you up the same way he did after your first patrol, chanting the same words, with Jason whooping and swinging his fist along with him.

“Shut it, you hooligans!” Damian exclaims. The room quotes for a moment, before Stephanie begins another chant for no reason whatsoever, ” _Dam-i-an, Dam-i-an, Dam-i-an_!” And soon, everyone is joining but the birthday boy.

“Not much has changed, as you can see, Master Jason,” Alfred smiled.

“Yep,” Jason sighed, ”It’s… It’s good to be home.”


	9. Crib Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being around babies and toddlers brings life-chainging thoughts to mind.

“Thank you so much for watching him Y/N, you are the best,” Lois gushed, dropping down to one knee in order to zip up her son’s jacket. Jon hid his smile in a scarf that was far too big for him. As Lois pulled the zipper up to his chin, he turned that toothy smile on you, and then began to bounce about on his heels and tug on his mother’s sleeve, ”Mom! Mom!  _Please_ tell me I can come visit again! We got to watch movies, and eat popcorn, and have a sleepover in the living room! Then we went ice skating and Jay taught me how to skate! I had so much fun! Please, please,  _please_ can I come again?” **  
**

“Easy, easy, Jon,” Lois laughed. She brushed back Jon’s wild curls, and you couldn’t help but be a little… jealous, of the action? Although Jon was the son of Clark and Lois Kent-Lane, he felt more like your child over the weekend in which he had stayed in your home. Or at least, he made you want to have a child of your own. A sweet little girl or boy like him, with a mop of messy black hair, and a pair of familiar sea-green eyes. You and Jason could take them ice skating… teach them how to walk… bring them to Wayne family dinners…

Jon was such a wonderful boy. He looked so much like Clark it was astounding, but every other part of him was so unique to his family; he walked like Conner, snarked like your sister Lois, and hugged like Kara. You could see your sister in him more than anything. He was quick-witted and so curious, asking casual questions in a way where you didn’t notice you were revealing secrets to him. He wasn’t manipulative… but he had a way of asking for what he wanted while not getting caught. Or, as Jason said, Jon was a very “sneaky” young man. If he were ever to have a cousin, he would certainly be an odd but helpful influence on them.

“It’s no problem, Lo. He’s such a joy to have around, and he really brightens up the place,” You grinned back at your nephew and ruffled his hair, making him giggle and push off your hand.

Lois stood up and gently pat Jon’s back, urging him into your apartment, ”Why don’t you go find Uncle Jay to make sure you didn’t forget anything while Aunt Y/N and I talk real quick?” Lois suggested. Jon was gone in the blink of an eye, making the coats beside your front door flutter, and the air come rushing out of your lungs. Lois shook her head, ”Jon! Be careful about your super-speed! You could knock something over!”

You both laughed when Jon called back, ” _Sorry!_ ”

Lois sighed through her nose, resting against the doorframe and closing her eyes, ”Anyway, how did it go? It sounds like Jon had fun.”

You couldn’t help the smile slipping on your face. Jon had stayed in your house for two days while Lois was reporting in Asia and Clark was handling something off-world. You were quick to offer your help, and although Jason was reluctant about having a toddler inside his apartment—a place packed with weaponry and dangerous tools—he had now completely flipped on the subject. You easily recalled how he held Jon on his lap as they re-watched Star Wars, imitating Yoda and sending the boy into fits of giggles.

“I love him, he’s my favorite nephew.” You confessed, shrugging.

“He’s your only nephew, Y/N,” Lois laughed, her shoulders slightly shaking.

You sighed through your nose, ”I mean… thank you for letting me handle him, I guess. Being around kids always makes me want one of my own, and seeing Jason and how he acted around Jon…”

“I know the feeling,” Lois smiled, ”Have you and Jason talked about that yet?”

You glanced behind you, looking about the room in search of listening ears, and mentally thanked the fact that Jon’s super hearing had yet to manifest. You looked back at your sister with an awkward cross of your arms, ”He doesn’t think that he’d be a good dad, but I doubt that’s true.”

“Agreed. Bruce isn’t all that bad, but even when he is, Jason can still learn from his mistakes. And you and him as parents? You’re already soulmates and engaged, Y/N, so that kid of yours is going to be perfect.” Lois said.

“Yeah,” You smiled down at your shoes, twisting your engagement ring with your thumb. Brushing off your sudden daze, you brought your sister in for a hug, ”But feel free to bring him around anytime. I can’t  _wait_ to see him get his x-ray vision.”

“Clark’s mom already told me the stories from when he got it, so it’s going to be a disaster,” Lois moaned regretfully into your shoulder, making you laugh against hers.

“Again,” You snickered, ”Can’t wait.”

It was then that you heard Jason and Jon emerge from the hall. Jason shoved one of Jon’s spare shirts into the backpack on the boy’s shoulders, zipped it up, then bounced up again as he brought Jon to the door. You found a familiar hand splay against the bottom of your back. It was too easy to lay your head against Jason’s shoulder and escape from anxiety and stress and into him, so you refrained from the action and saved it for later. As Jason bid his soon-to-be sister-in-law goodbye you crouched down and opened your arms to your nephew.

Jon quite literally flew into them, but made sure to keep his arms loosely around you as not to break anything. You felt his large grin on your collarbones, so young and free, so childish and adorable it made you want to explode. You squeezed him around the waist,”We’re so glad you got to come over, Jon.”

“I’m glad I got to see you, Aunt Y/N!” Jon giggled. Then he looked up at Jason, who had been expectantly raising an eyebrow as if to ask _What am I? Chopped liver?_ Jon joyously wrapped his arms around your fiance’s long legs, snickering like a mad-man. He squealed delightfully when Jason swept him from the floor, wrapping his strong arms around the boy. Jon laughed. It was high and sweet like a tinkling bell, ”And you too, Uncle Jay!”

“Be good for your mom, kid,” Jason advised, then when he deposited the six-year-old onto the floor, held out his fist and met the boys’ eyes with a wink, ”Okay?”

“Okay! I  _promise,_ ” Jon snickered, then bumped his fist with Jason’s.

Again, you felt Jason’s hand slipped down your back. But as soon as the door was shut you were suddenly swept into a silence you hadn’t felt since Friday. Jason watched the smile and how it didn’t fall off your face when Jon and Lois left. So when you leaned on the wall of one side of the hallway, Jason crossed his arms and rested his shoulder on the space beside you.

“It’s almost like he’s  _my_ kid sometimes. My baby boy, and I’d die protecting him,” You admitted softly. Looking up at Jason is harder than you would have thought, and suddenly anxiety wraps it’s filthy tendrils around your belly and squeezes. How would Jason react? Positively? Negatively?  _Depressingly_? You knew for a fact Jason felt like he wouldn’t be an amazing father, but as Lois said, Jason could and has already learned from Bruce’s mistakes when it came to parenting. He could learn from Bruce either way, really, as Bruce had officially raised too many children. (That man needed help.)

 “I know what you mean. But he’s definitely Clark’s kid…” Jason laughed, and the both of your easily recalled Jon’s protest of the unfair treatment of a person in a movie.  _”Why are they beating him up? He didn’t do anything! Geez, I wish I could just step into this movie and help him!”_

You felt Jason’s hand lightly comb down your arm and back up again. You sighed when his fingers slipped down far enough to entwine with your own, a perfect stress-ball for your troubles.

“I want a kid like that.” You confessed. It was quiet, a transparent wall between true honesty, admitting to Jason that you wanted a child, and hiding behind a barrier to protect your worries. But he easily caught on, his face flashing with a mix of surprise and then… guilt?

“Me… me too,” Jason whispered, the words ricochetting between your bodies and minds as you considered one another’s words. ”But you… you know how I feel about all this, doll. How should we… how should we approach this?”

You exhaled heavily through your nose, turning your cheek to the wall and frowning at him, ”Jay… you I think you’d be a great dad, right? I think… honestly, out of all the men I’ve met, you’d be the most capable. You’re so sweet and good with kids, you give the best advice, you’re responsible, you have a lot of heavy life experience…”

Jason’s face seemed to sullen at every memory. Feeling guilty for reminding him of such horrible things, you unwound your hand from his and slid it to cup the crook of his neck. Jason placed his hand over yours, and for a brief and silent moment, you mourned him even if he was standing right there.

“I don’t want to put our kid in  _danger_ , Y/N.” Jason said.

“Niether do I, but Jason, do you know who we are?” You laughed lightly, ”Your…  _you_. You have brothers, you have Cass, Barbara, and Stephanie. The Outlaws. The Teen Titans.  _The Justice League._ ”

“You know how the League is when it comes to  _Jon_. And I know that maybe you’re not as connected to the Titans, or the League as you used to be. But they’d still protect one of their own. And your family—do you remember when everyone thought that Kori was pregnant? Alfred  _cried_. Bruce  _hugged Dick in uniform_. Imagine if we  _actually_ had a child together…”

Jason allowed the light feeling brewing in his chest translate into a smile. He doesn’t dare break your gaze when he murmurs, ”Yeah… that’s true. And I guess I have been thinking about it for a while now.”

“Just imagine,” you whispered delightfully, stepping closer to him, ”Hearing their first words. Teaching them to walk. Making them laugh.”

“ _Making them smile,_ ” You and Jason breathed together, matching grins on your faces. You started to laugh into his chest, and so it wasn’t long until he was too, chuckling happily into your ear as you half-embraced.

You both pulled away to meet one another’s eyes, and you could now see a swirling cloud of excitement bubble in Jason’s irises.

“You’re sure about this?” You questioned Jason. ”Because I… I know I am.”

“I am,” Jason nodded, a promise.

“Okay then, Jason Todd,” You smiled. Again, you cupped Jason’s face, smoothing your thumb down his cheek, eyes wide with wonder for the future. ”Let’s have a baby.”


	10. Crib Talk, part ii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven years later...

You’ve found that lately you don’t dream as much. Maybe it’s the stress, maybe it’s what kinds of food you’re eating. You don’t know. All you know that, as you fall into a split-second oblivion you are warm. There is only warmth and darkness. Warmth, darkness, heavy breaths falling on your neck and an arm wrapped so securely around your waist your chest feels tight. But that doesn’t matter. Because somewhere in your sleepy haze do you recognize where the warmth comes from. And that source of warmth is shaking you awake.

“Jason…?” You questioned. You felt his grip on you tighten, his breath falling against your ear at a volume you barely caught even if he was so close.

“There’s something in the kitchen,” Jason said. He was startlingly calm, his heart beating almost at a sleeping pace against your back. You immediately blink of your sleep and clench the blanket in your hands. He pressed a swift kiss to your shoulder and whispered, ”Get ‘Rin and take your phone. I’ll handle it.”

Together, you both plant your feet on the floor and move as soundless as possible. But it isn’t possible, as every breath is a storm, every step a scream, every tense of muscle a siren shouting your location to the rooftops. He crouches down low, like a panther, before darting across the length of your bedroom and avoiding the light of your hallway like something far beyond an expert. Soundlessly, the pistol from your dresser is in his hands and his back is planted against the doorframe. You meet eyes for the briefest of moments, a thousand words exchanged in the look;  _I love you_ ,  _be safe_ ,  _shoot straight_. Jason nods. You nod. And he’s gone, not even a shadow left behind.

Another clatter sounds, but lightly, like something was preparing something in your kitchen. You peak between the door and the hinges for Jason’s signal. He’s ducked low again by the couch, and with the briefest of glances, he gives the all clear and nods. You slip out of your bedroom and down the opposite end of your hall. As you open the door to the second room, you see Jason dart to the kitchen doorway.

You had only seen your husband in action a couple of times. Everytime your heart was in your throat, rattling like a lego caught in a fan, your palms clammy and your shoulders tight with fear. The images come back in slow flashes that only tell so much of the story; the night you had been kidnapped, the cuts on your face in the mirror that night, the bruises from the zip-ties, and Jason’s powerful,  _vengeful_ eyes appearing like a ghost in the pistol smoke; stuttery and jerky news footage from some civilian’s phone, bouncing as they ran from an avalanche of debris, the red of Jason’s helmet caught somewhere in the hail of rubble—But then the memories stop,  _everything_ stops, because suddenly the world isn’t turning anymore and your baby girl isn’t in her room.

You slap a hand over your mouth to cover the horrified gasp you release. You want to scream, you want to shout, but the fear is too much. You glance back at Jason to try and communicate what’s happened, but he’s frozen in place as a long shadow breaks through the light of your kitchen. Short. Rounded. And a very heavy head.

Jason’s shoulders drop in relief, but he’s quick to slip the weapon away. You hear his thankful sigh from your hiding place and dare to step from your daughter’s room. Immediately, you begin to laugh.

Seven-year-old Catherine Todd is standing in your kitchen doorway, her chubby fingers wrapped around her hips, and her father’s helmet over her face. She tilts her head to the side and looks at him, sending the helmet sideways and bumping against her shoulders. Jason’s laughter makes it all worth it. The way your daughter squeals when he scooped her up underneath her arms makes the terror evaporate, and the way she settles against his bare chest makes you smile.

“Baby, you scared me,” Jason laughed as she wrapped her arms around his neck, giggling like mad. She must have figured out how to activate the helmet’s controls, as the eyes—the only feature on the hood’s face—illuminate her hands when she aims them at Jason.

With finger guns, she declares, ”I’m Red Hood! Pew! Pew!”

Jason melts, the smile enveloping his face so easy, so beautiful and  _real_. He slips a thumb under the hood and pulls it from her head, tossing it somewhere behind him, ”If you are, then what is Red Hood doing in my kitchen, huh?”

Her bright Jason-inherited eyes match his so perfectly it is as if she is his clone. They crinkle at the edges when she shrugs, ”Red Hood was hungry.”

Jason glanced at the clock on your microwave, carrying her on his hip as they ventured into the kitchen. When you followed them, leaning your shoulder against the doorframe, you found the source of the noise; she had been using a stool in order to reach things, but had managed to send a pot flying and a drawer to the floor. Jason sighed at the mess she made, but helped her clean it up and put the drawer back in place, ”Well, Red Hood can wait until everybody else wakes up, right? You scared me and your mom really bad. Thought you were one of the bad guys for a second there.”  
  


“Red Hood waits for no one,” Catherine said, putting the drawer back on it’s track and sliding it back under the counter. She then proceeded to stare off into the distance dramatically, little brows furrowing and black hair draping around her face in the messy, determined way she always was. Smartly, she cocked her hip to the side and raised her chin to her father, ”And Red Hood is  _never_ the bad guy.”

The corner of Jason’s lip quirked, before he scooped her up again, striding across the room to meet you. ” _Red Hood_  waits for your mom,” Jason said, passing Catherine to you. His lips fell onto your forehead, and then carded back the dark curtains of hair framing Catherine’s face, ”And I’m glad you think that, ‘Rin.”

“Goodnight,” She smiled.

Fatherhood had certainly changed Jason—no, wait. It just brought out that part of him, the one that pat Tim on the shoulder before he left, the part that absentmindedly bounced Lian on his knee as he and Roy talked, the part that groaned about adults with Damian. It all came down to the face he made when Catherine was first held in his arms, the first words he whispered and the promises he made.  _Hey, mini-me_ , Jason had whispered,  _I’m your dad. And I swear to god, to whatever the hell gave me a second chance, you’re never gonna go through the hell that I went through—not on my watch._

“Goodnight, Red Hood.” You whispered against her cheek, sending her into a fit of giggles when you pinched her side.

**_**

**Bonus:**

At first, Jason’s not even sure his daughter is speaking a known human language. It’s just a string of gibberish to accompany her perked ears and restless sitting position, teetering back and forth in her chair on the patio of Wayne Manor. It’s when Alfred appears in the doorway and announces the Kent’s arrival does she finally start to make sense. She leaps from her seat, darts around Damian and dives through Stephanie’s legs, chanting, ”JonJonJonJonJonJon!”

Jon is well versed in greeting his cousins; he plants himself on the porch, opens his arms, and somehow manages to stay upright when Catherine tackles him. She drags him over in front of Jason and the boy remains compliant through it all, nodding along as she eagerly presses her father, ”Can Jon, Dami, and I go play in the garden? He brought the nerf ball! The one that whistles when you throw it! Please, please, please, Dad!”

“Yeah, yeah, go on,” Jason laughs. But before she can leave, he points to Damian’s face and says, ”Make sure to aim for right  _here_.” It makes Jon and Catherine laugh, but Damian just clicks his tongue.

Taking Damian’s hand, Catherine leads the two boys down the path.”Just remember,” Jason hears Damian tell her, jabbing a thumb at himself, ” _I’m_ your favorite.”

> **Bonus Bonus:**

A couple minutes later the BBQ is interrupted by a furious roar, a high-pitched shriek, and the contagious laughter of Catherine Todd. Jon comes bounding down the path at his top-speed, Catherine shouting and hollering and laughing on his back, ”We got him! I hit him! I hit him!”

Damian comes flying from the bushes with his katana raised, and Jason bursts into laughter as he shelters his daughter. Damian lands on the rail and perches there like a bird, raising his sword high over his head. He has a bruise already forming on his cheek, ” _I’ll kill you, **Todd-spawn!**_ ”  


	11. Withdrawal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Roy,” Koriand’r almost whispers when she believes Jason is out of earshot. The two exchange a look, faces worn in deep with rivers of pain and lines of guilt. She bows her head and shakes it,”I believe I know what Jason’s deepest desire was.”

Everything happens so quickly. He hears the repetitive  _tish tish tish_ sing and explode as Kori’s starblasts singe the forcefield around the sorceress, feels the air go hot around him with the force of the witch’s pull and Kori’s energy. He feels an arrow hit his chest, the mechanisms in its head grabbing his chest plate and Roy straining as he tries to fight against gravity. But even if this has all happened in the span of two seconds, Jason’s mind slows down.

The night before, he had woken from a nightmare. While he usually forgot his dreams minutes after he had them, this one stayed with him, rooted deeply in his lungs and blocking his airways. The dread wrapped it’s way around the column of his throat until he was choking on panic and lack of air. His sheets spent the next hour clutched in his hands while he desperately strived for leveled breathing. It was like reaching for the moon from Earth, knowing you’ll never get there, your hand hanging in the heavens but never,  _ever_ close enough to graze its rocky face. His thoughts were everywhere; the fading remnants of his dream, which had begun with blinding like and ended the same way, rocking him away with a deafening, throttling  _boom_  that shook the very foundations of his cracked conscience; sucking the dry air into lungs through his teeth, gulping it down like a cold glass of water after days of thirst; and you, always,  _always_ you.

It was in those moments that thoughts of your comforted him the most. As he laid in the hospital bed after climbing out of his own grave,  _you…_ he didn’t even know your name. All he knew as he drifted in and out of awakening was that a beautiful [girl/boy] haunted him—like the moon, always out of reach but still in his sights. As Talia retold the stories to him, scrubbing the Lazarus Pit off his skin, he thought of you. When he sat among his men as the Red Hood, he thought of you. While fighting Bruce: you. When healing himself—you, always, always  _you_.

When his breathing had finally started to fill his lungs again, he glanced over at his phone. Before he died, the first thing he would have done after a nightmare was call you. Then, you’d sprint to Manor in your pajamas if you had to, throw your arms around him and kiss the nightmares away. Now, you wouldn’t do that. You  _couldn’t_ do that. Because you had found someone else while he was gone. And you were still with them now. So, Jason does what he does best as he lies alone; he suffers.

Sometime after that, Roy had called him for a quick mission since he was in the area. Something about a massive energy spike on Arkham Island. He parked his bike in some alley by the Westward bridge, grappled across, and met with Roy and Kori in the caves below Intensive Treatment. A couple minutes of tracking the energy source and talking to the head administrator, the Outlaws had found an escaped inmate. Worse, a  _little girl_ , possessed by some magical being packing too much punch for the host body to take. That meant  _The Witch_  was overflowing with power, and currently trying to throw Jason Todd halfway across the universe.

She succeeds. Maybe not about the location bit, as Jason Todd is  _certainly_ not beneath Arkham Island. But still, she’s succeeded.

He helmet collides with a wooden floor, his body tossed through the threshold and sent sprawling into the moon-lit hall of an apartment. The wire held to the end of Roy’s arrow coils, and then is abruptly torn from Jason’s armor and sent zipping through the portal. He doesn’t have enough time to right himself before it’s gone, the wind and noise all fading with a single  _snap!_

Jason Todd is left to stare, panting and holding himself up on an elbow, as he observes the window in which the portal had deposited him in front of. The moon is high and heavy, fat and weighted like a dumpling. Gotham glows neon under its light, and from the buildings outside Jason knows exactly where he is. The G.C.P.D headquarters is a couple streets over and standing tall. The Clocktower Oracle and The Birds of Prey operate out of sprouts from between a bunch of smaller buildings stacked up like toy blocks in the distance. The red lights of the Grand Avenue Station glare down at Jason, and that huge damned billboard you hate sits across from him on the other side of the street, displaying flying designs of cherry blossoms and women’s shampoo. Jason Todd is in your apartment in the East End of Gotham City. So, of course, it makes sense that you would be here.

“Jason!” You breathed in relief, landing on your knees beside him. You cup each side of his helmet, pressing your index fingers in those two key spots, causing the releasing mechanisms to hiss. The protective padding in Jason’s helmet unclasps from his neck, pulled from his face so he can view you with his own eyes. You are as beautiful as ever, charming eyes and charming lips and charming everything right there in front of him, painted a greyed pink by that stupid billboard struck by the rain.

“Y/N?” He has only seconds to gasp, before there’s a sharp sting of something cold meeting his skin, your hands bracing against each side of his neck and pulling him in for an intense kiss. Your lips are so soft and chapped against his, warm and comforting. Suddenly he’s got the moon held in both his hands, and the moon is worriedly looking over him, stroking his face and furrowing their brows.

“You’re dating someone,” He inhales sharply, pushing your lips off his. Jason is almost proud of himself in that moment. You couldn’t cheat on your partner, you wouldn’t—and especially with him. Jason had never deserved what you had given him. But regardless, he tries to repeat that thought as his eyes drop your lips, regretting pulling away. How long had it been since you last kissed? When you said goodbye when he left to find his mother? Or had he never said it at all, leaving you to whisper your parting words to a gravestone?

“No, I’m married to someone.” You said, a twitch of a smile finding the corner of your mouth. Your hands continuously ran through his hair worriedly, and with every stroke, Jason was drowning again. Drowning, drowning, drowning, the last of his breath rising through the water and popping atop the surface he could never reach. He would never reach. No matter how hard he had tried, no matter much he wanted to, he couldn’t reach out to you in the way his feelings were screaming at him too. Because you weren’t in love with him anymore. You were in love with someone else, who you deserved more than you ever deserved him.

You raised your hand and wiggled your ring finger near his face, smiling,”Mx. Todd, remember?”

Jason’s mind swims for an explanation, and he finds it in The Witch’s words. Before the portal had opened, before he’d been dragged into this heavenly hell, she’d said,”Hmm. Jason Todd. I wonder what you desire most. Oh, what? You don’t know? Here, I’ll tell you—better yet, this other world will  _show_ you.”

Another world.

“Yes, of course,” Jason said. Even if he had been trained to be the perfect liar, the smile he made was possibly the hardest he would ever create.”I’m your husband.”

“You’re my husband,” You repeated with a musical laugh, that rung in Jason’s ears like the sweetest bell. Guiding him to a better sitting position, you held one side of his neck, questioning,”You okay, Jay?”

“Yeah, uh, I just got hit really hard by this one guy,” Jason lied. His body’s reaction to your care was automatic, his fingers entwining with yours on your thigh,”And it made me mess up on my grapple in. I just needed to stop by for a short break before I get out there again.”

“Okay,” You smiled, squeezing his fingers and gazing up at him like he was  _your_ moon. You released his fingers and Jason almost reached out for you, rushing to follow you when you began to stand. You pat his chest,”What are you out of? Because those extra bullets you ordered came this morning, and we have twice what you usually need when it comes to smoke bombs.”

“Oh, no, I’ll be fine,” Jason waved you off quickly, taking your hand and pulling you toward his chest again,”I just wanted to stop by to check on you.”

“Patrol that rough?” You laughed,”Because this is the third time you’ve stopped in  _tonight_.”

Jason dared to venture forward. God, you were so  _intoxicating._ You step closer to him and his face flares, igniting when you lay your hands on his chest and trace the shape of a bat on his armor. He couldn’t hide the adoration in his eyes, the way his heart beat harder, succumbing to the warmth he had desired for so long. This was, out of everything the Witch could have done to him, the worst thing. Give him a taste of the paradise he thought and dreamed of every night, then tear him from his own heaven and forcing him to look back on it. Like getting him high for the first time in years, but leaving him empty-handed and starving without it. And if you were a drug, then after this he would be having withdrawal symptoms for months—years. So Jason guiltily submerged himself in your bliss, indulging in your touch and your kiss and the way you look at him like he’s your everything when  _he isn’t_.

“Maybe I just miss you too much for my own good,” Jason whispered. The way you blush and duck your head brings back thoughts of his teenage years, where he’d toss his arm over your shoulder and kiss the shell of your ear, cooing against your cheek,” _So this has been where my best [girl/guy] has been hiding. You miss me, doll?_ ”

 _“More than anything.”_  You’d tell him in response.

You laid your head against his shoulder, huffing a flustered breath into his neck, smiling against his jaw. It feels like an eternity has gone by as you stand there and embrace, but maybe it’s only been a minute or even less when his arms come to wind around your back. You sigh dreamily, tired and worried and married to him—stuck with this life that will do you no good. Stuck with him, the boy with all the dead loved ones or none at all. And if Jason Todd loves one thing overall, it is you.

“Maybe I just love you too much for my own good,” You responded sweetly, sleepily.

“Yeah,” Jason said too truthfully.

Again, you pressed your hand to his cheek, tilting him downward and smiling up at him like what you just said was just a joke. But it isn’t, because this version of you is going to realize too late what you’ve gotten yourself into. You’re going to realize what kind of man Jason is, you’re not going to like it, and then you’ll be plunged into the hell he manages to put everyone through. He wishes that he could shake you awake and chant until you understand,  _I don’t deserve you, you deserve better, you deserve better,_ even if you weren’t  _his_ Y/N. He could only pray that this Jason was good to you—no, better than good, because you are more than just some person who lives in Gotham, but Jason Todd’s  _entire world_.

“I love you, Y/N,” Jason said, pulling you as close as he can,”So damn much.”

You giggle pleasantly in his ear, squishing your cheek affectionately into his. You’re so  _happy_  with that ring on your finger. Jason wonders what this version of you is like, how they live, how their Jason treats them and why they’re together and you and he aren’t. He gives himself ten seconds. He holds your face for two, admires it for three, and then kisses you for five and tries to hold in his tears and the pain for all of it. It ends up lasting 15 instead with your arms coiling around his neck. For those 15 seconds, Jason sinks and falls—harder and harder until he doesn’t remember what it was like to not be in love with you.

“I love you too, Jason. I always will,” You said, your lip tilted in the way where he knows that you’ve figured out something is off. He can’t give you any more time, because he imagines that if he stays one more second you’ll know and he’ll fall too far to ever recover. But he’s lying to himself. He’s so far past the point of no return that it’s not even on the horizon anymore. And Jason spends too much time staring at that horizon, waiting for the moon so he can outstretch his hand and hope it grasps his with its own.

Jason hides it all, burying it under thoughts of how he’s going to get back home—something involving the Batcave Bruce has under Robinson park. And when he does, smoking in the center of a ring of the League’s best sorcerers, he brushes past Roy and Kori.

“You okay, man?” Roy asks, placing a hand on Jason’s shoulder.

With heavy feet and a heavier heart (if he has one left), Jason can’t respond. He wants to. He wants to look at Roy and shake his head, then collapse against his friend and spill it all. But he  _can’t_ , because your voice keeps ringing in his ears,” _I love you, Jason. I always will.”_ But that’s a lie, because this world’s Y/N has only loved him once, and they’re never going to do it again. So he stalks off without another word.

“Roy,” Koriand’r almost whispers when she believes Jason is out of earshot. The two exchange a look, faces worn in deep with rivers of pain and lines of guilt. She bows her head and shakes it,”I believe I know what Jason’s deepest desire was.”

Roy just nods, because he doesn’t know what else to do. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembers a [girl/boy] rushing from the crowds and into the rubble after a large Justice League battle, throwing their arms around Robin and sobbing in relief. He remembered that same [girl/boy] from last week, holding a hand that was not Robin’s, that wasn’t Jason Todd.

“Oh,” Roy said.


	12. Under Pressure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason Todd and tight spaces do not mix.

“ _Nightshade_ ,” A panicked voice whispers. Your shoulder is shaken. Behind the choked harmony of the boyish voice is a muffled calamity, as if you are sheltered from a world that is falling apart. At first you don’t know what is barricading the sound, which sounds are playing behind it, and where you are. But you know explosions. You  _know_ them, and you know them because your life is an explosion; it’s been that way since you were just a kid.

When you were growing up, your family was middle class. Not rich or poor enough for anyone to care about, but it’s not like that mattered in Gotham. In Gotham, the middle class and the lower class were one in the same, while the rich and the corrupt ruled this city. It was one of those cities where you had to know the difference between gunshots and fireworks and distant explosions. Every other day it was  _murder_ this and  _casualties_ that. Your father was one of the honest cops, and your mother, a previous homeless, was an activist and caretaker for those who needed care. People this damned city needed. You remembered fondly going down to the clinic with her to visit Dr. Thompkins—later Aunt Leslie—with her, and volunteering whenever she did. They bled their good values and morals into you, and maybe that’s why all this started. Why they died… Because they were just good people, and Gotham gives her all to devour good people.

Bruce Wayne had a habit of taking in any parentless child—well, you didn’t know that until the third or fourth kid, as you were Bruce’s first. Maybe you were just such a great kid that he thought getting more would be a good idea. Maybe you caught him in a moment of weakness. Whatever it was, Bruce Wayne took you in.

It was his first night out, his first month back in Gotham and he was still getting used to the cowl against his face and the wind in his cape. The police made it harder, considering he wasn’t known to be on their side. Hell, Bruce’s story hadn’t even hit the papers yet when he found you. And  _them_.

You don’t remember much of that night. You remember  _them_. You remember your parents, because you always will. But sometimes, the brief little snapshots appear in your dreams and twist them into nightmares instead. They happened repetitively after the first few weeks with them gone, so you refrained from telling Bruce and tried to read until it all went away. But they only got worse. Until he heard you one night, swept in, yelled at you for not telling him, apologized, and then urged you to tell him what you dreamt.

Blood; leaking through the fissures in the worn and coarse pavement, staining second-hand store jackets and jeans. Chalk; around their bodies, on the walls, in your memory. Fire; an explosion concentrated and shot twice from a gun, illuminating their faces, under the streetlamp and under the lights of the emergency vehicles. Blue, red, white. Blue, red, white. Again and again until you jolted up with a cry.

Bruce held you like a father would that night, cooing and rubbing your back. Maybe that was the first time you began to consider him as someone who could be like your father; a good man, a parent—someone there for you. Your parents were dead. His parents were dead. That’s something you bond over, right?

You don’t remember a lot. That’s never been something you’ve been good at, but perhaps it’s better to forget the details when it comes to your family, both old and new. You don’t remember learning Bruce’s identity. You don’t remember choosing the name Nightshade, or training, or anything of that sort. But you do remember meeting Dick, and Jason, and Barbara, and Tim—you remember them, because you’ll always remember your family. You remember Jason, Damian, and Stephanie’s deaths, you remember embracing each one of them when they returned. You remember the really good things, and maybe that’s your superpower.

This, you know you don’t want to remember.

An explosion rocks your little shelter, sending flakes of rubble onto your face from above. You force yourself to open your eyes beneath your mask, and realize with a terrible horror that you can’t see. Jason’s voice pulls you from your temporary insanity, but not in a good way.

The Red Hood’s voice is shaking, absolutely throttled by fear and practically choking him. His helmet looks at you blankly, but his breaths are coming out in short bursts.”Y-Y/N.” He starts.

“Hey,” You say, trying to sound calm for your little brother. Your voice activates the night vision in your mask, making Jason’s helmet glow a deep jade color. Shaking off the dust and looking around, you register immediately two things. A: You’re completely buried under rubble. B: Your coms are disabled and Jason’s helmet is cracked, meaning you have no way out. But you can’t focus on that right now, because the jolt in his voice and the quaver in his breath only means one thing, and you curse Joker up and down and tell yourself for the millionth time,  _I would have killed that bastard if Bruce wasn’t there._

“You okay, little wing?” You said slowly. Jason shook his head, but it made him too dizzy and he bowed his head. Darkness and tight spaces never worked for Jason, and you hated why you immediately knew why, and you  _hated_ Joker for putting him in that damned coffin. And god, is this pocket between the rocks like a coffin. It’s so cramped that you have about a foot of space between you and your brother,  both of your backs are pressed tight against the uneven wall, and heads bowed because the ceiling is so tight. You try pushing back against the rocks, but the space is barely enough to get leverage and it probably has a lot stacked on it’s outside. This little pocket is just a space managing to fit in between, like the space between a circle of tilted cards. At least you know that air is still flowing through the cracks. You’re not going to run out of oxygen: perfect.

“I’m gonna take off your helmet. That okay, little wing?” You asked. Jason let out a grunt that didn’t sound against your suggestion, so you carefully reached out and found the unlocking mechanism. It pulled apart with a hiss. When you slid the helmet off his face, Jason released a heavy, quaking breath of near-relief.

Now that you could see his eyes, it is so much worse. You’d had a panic attack before. It was  _hell_ , and you knew for a fact he was reliving the warehouse and his mother all over again. You know that you relived the precious seconds after that earth-shaking  _BOOM_ just as much as he has. Your mind is almost too scattered for functioning thought, but pulling those pieces together is as easy as walking. Talking about what he’s going through, asking what nightmares he’s living, is definitely not the way to go. The fear is only exaggerated, tearing it’s way up your throat and trying to rip you in two to escape your body’s cage. Anxiety becomes living and  _lethal_ , a looming beast of all teeth and frayed skin, shredded flesh and blood-soaked claws that dig into your conscience and your heart.

“Hey, it’s okay,” You extend your hands in the darkness. Jason saw their outline and fumbled for them, until his fingers held your own in a vise. You pulled off your mask with your free hand before interlocking your fingers with your little brother’s, panic seizing when his breathing accelerated,”Listen to me, Jason. It’s going to be alright. We’re going to get out of here. I  _promise_. We’re going to get out of here.”

“Ye-yeah.” Jason nodded unsteadily. He wasn’t convinced. You tried harder.

“Okay. Now what I want you to do is  _breathe_ , okay? Slowly. Evenly—like this,” you took in measured breaths, first through your nose, and then out of your mouth as easily and as comfortably as you could. Jason mirrored you, and you continued to perform the action until you felt he could handle it on his own. His hands were incredibly clammy, his eyes kept shifting about as his body did—he still wasn’t there. But the breathing helped.

“Keep breathing like that,” you urged, gently squeezing his hand. You smiled at him, easily stroking the back of his hand,”I’m so proud of you.”

“You are?” He exhaled tightly.

“Of course,” You said honestly, but hesitated in speaking. Conversing was like walking a minefield blindfolded.”I’ve always been proud of you, you know? You did so amazing in school even with how much stress you were under. You recovered so well from everything. You’re  _healing_. And you’re also such a good person, too. You hang out with me all the time because you know how much I miss you, even if you don’t like being at the Manor. You still save people even if they don’t deserve to be saved by someone like you. You deserve so much more, and I wish I could give you the whole world.”

There were tears now. You felt them drop on your hands from his chin, but you didn’t wipe them away in fear of already breaching his comfort with your bound hands. His voice was still shaking, but more in the way it did when you were crying. It was all wobbly and sad.”Why?” He could only voice a couple words, but at least he could speak. Some of the bad ones that you’d been there for he couldn’t even look at anyone, never mind talk. Panic attacks always made it harder for people to rationalize.

“Because you’re my little brother,” You said easily, stroking his hands with your thumbs.” And even if you weren’t, I would still want to give you the whole world because you deserve it. Okay, Jay? You deserve it. So that’s why we’re gonna get out of here, and it’s all gonna be okay.”

He pulls his hands from yours, limply opening them. He whimpers,”Ca-can I…?”

“Always.” You promise, pulling Jason into your chest. You don’t question him when he starts to sob, when his tears when your shoulder and his fingers dig grooves of bruises into your back. Because he’s your little brother, and you’d do anything for family.

As always, you don’t remember the little pieces. Somewhere in your memories, there’s the thought,  _My god, I have never been happier to see the boy scout in my entire life_ , coupled with a flying red cape above the rubble, a hand outstretched and shining in the sun. You know Jason disappeared sometime after that, before he could see Bruce or anyone else with nothing but a nod of thanks for Superman, and a hug of gratitude for you.

This morning, you awake in your apartment to find a full breakfast and a note inscribed with Jason’s handwriting:

_Hey, Y/N,_

_Sorry I ran off so quick. I’m feeling a lot better though, and I guess I’m happy you didn’t tell B about what went down under the rocks. But I’m glad you were there. I really am. Consider this breakfast my thank you, or part of it anyway—if you meet me at the cafe across from The Clocktower at noon, I’ll let you in on some of my new recipes. Or maybe I’ll just owe you forever._

_Thanks. Again. I really, really owe you one._

_\- Your brother, Jason Todd._

_P.S: It’s mostly [favorite cuisine] stuff._

You’ll always remember family. Especially family that makes you breakfast food.


	13. Cliches of Classical Literature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clutched in his hammer-like hands, his knuckles rooted beneath his fingers like steel bolts, was your book.

Friends with benefits relationship in which Jason gets attached and catches feelings before the reader. Kind of clingy, needy Jason?

 _Hurry, hurry, hurry_ , you mentally encouraged yourself, feet pulling you into a half-sprint as you left the coffee shop.  _If I don’t get to the library first, then someone’s getting the book I need—and then there’s no_ way  _I’m passing that test._

Today was one of  _those days_ in Gotham. The wind caught in your hair, carrying the whispers of gossip from the unusually large flock of people coating the streets. The Joker had threatened to poison the water supply a few days earlier to celebrate his first day in Gotham City. The thing was that Bats was gone, leaving behind his children and their associates to care for the city, having spent the week leaping from rooftop to rooftop. While the problem had been solved with minimal casualties (the thought made you sick to know that there were any at all), Vicky Vale had been going nuts after a possibility that Nightwing’s mask slipped off. You could seriously care less if he was blue-eyed, black-eyed, or blind—if you didn’t get to the library in the next five minutes, you were  _sure_ that a book you needed would be checked out and there would be no way for you to study for an upcoming test.

While on any other day you couldn’t ignore the withering stares thrown at you, each sour face only blurred together as you rushed down the street, weaving in and around umbrellas and rain-soaked ponchos. Gotham  _loved_ to rain, didn’t it? In your mad dash you’d become something akin to a land-venturing mermaid from how wet you were. It only made everything more of an annoyance; the noise of the bumper-to-bumper traffic, the shoulder-to-shoulder late-afternoon Gotham sidewalk clogging, and the pelting rain. Too bad you forgot your—

If the world around you was a pinball machine with the surrounding people targets and yourself the ball, then you would have gotten a high-score for all the collisions. An arm here, maybe a hooked leg, and maybe you’d get a yell or a scowl in response as you darted by. But when you collide with  _this_ man it is like running into a brick wall. Your arm smacks into his shoulder-blade and sent the book in his arms flying. Before it can splatter into a puddle as he passes, the young man—university age, at  _least_ —swoops it up with the speed of a rock fired from a slingshot.

The words that come out of your mouth are more of a sickening yelp than a string of apologies. You try to apologize if the crash is harsh, but this man deserves more than just that. It was impossible not admire him. Not only did he have a large, square build like a brick house; his eyes were a startling green, the kind that pushed through the snow to remind that spring was coming, the light turning them blue and pine and back again; his jaw was as sharp as a knife and his throat was constructed like an ancient Roman column. But he was holding something. Yes.

Clutched in his hammer-like hands, his knuckles rooted beneath his fingers like steel bolts, was  _your book_.

You looked at the cover in astoundment to confirm your suspicions. Seeing your interest, he flicked the binding so that you could see the name. He raised a sharp eyebrow,“On your way to the library?”

“Yeah…” You said, zoning out and looking to and from his face to the image on the book. Gaining your senses, you turned around him and got out of the crowd the best you could, stopping in front of a store only for the handsome stranger to follow. You gave him a bleary look,“Uh, I’m actually headed down to get that exact book. How’d you know?”

With a polite smile that made you blush far beyond attractive rosiness, he pointed to the Gotham City Public Library card you were nervously clutching in one hand.“I’m on my way to return this one, actually.”

“Little bit of light reading?” You tried to joke, as the book could have been as broad as his shoulders were.

“Needed it for a job,” He said, laughing lightly. Tucking it under the arm that held his umbrella, you suddenly found one large hand extended toward you. The man looked down at you between your drastic height difference,“What do you need it for? Name’s Jason, by the way.”

“Y-Y/N. And it’s for an assignment I’m working on,” you said, gesturing wildly and trying not to act like an idiot.

As Jason began to walk in the direction of the library, you couldn’t help but be both grateful and skeptical. For one, he was so large and broad that the crowd parted for him easily. But he was the  _definition_ of bad-boy. The leather motorcycle jacket, the charming smile, handsome eyes and the innate ability to turn you into jelly. And yet you could tell that he knew the book and that he had read it. And  _liked_ it, so total book-nerd. You’d met him five seconds ago and you  _knew_  this was going to end about a dozen cliche ways.

“A pretty name for a pretty face,” he said, tossing you a smile. It flickered back to the book,“I’ll bet this is for [subject], right? If you want, I can walk you there and you can just check this copy out right away.”

“Sure, that sounds great,” you agreed. Your cheeks could have been literally steaming with how the cold rain hit them. Jason took note of your rigidness and inclined his umbrella to dry you, while you were trying not to shriek out loud; where did they  _make_ boys like these?

Though the library wasn’t that far away from where you had met Jason, it certainly felt like the best thousand years you’d ever lived through. A discussion on the book arose like a bonfire with you and Jason warming by it. Since you had read it previously you were almost  _too_ eager to respond, giggling at his comments, walking closer and closer until you were almost shoulder-to-shoulder. By the time you had entered the front doors Jason was set to help you with your assignment.

That had been the day you met Jason Todd. You knew you’d get together. You just  _knew_ that either you’d die dramatically in his arms, have it all end in a tragic breakup, or fulfill a Fifty Shades of Gray style plotline with him as the sexy bad-boy love interest. That last one didn’t seem too bad, though. And to your luck, that’s pretty much what happened.

After a year, you’d begun to do more than just hang out with him outside of library visits. His family—whom he wasn’t very close with anymore—owned it, so he had a key and would often stay after hours. But within him stirred a deep trauma that became clear after some time, making him flinch or tense when you came around a corner too fast, or dislike the sound of erratic laughter. It’s one of the many reasons he loved Gotham Public, as the main librarian’s lips had gone dry from how much they shushed people. Besides there, he clung to his apartment or frequented a coffee shop you went to pretty much every day. It was weird to think that you’d probably seen him or even sat by him without knowing him as you know now. And  _oh_ , did you  _know_ him.

“You like this too much,” you whisper sharply.

Jason’s lips danced a sweet line down the length of your throat, gently pushing you into the corner shelf in the classical literature section. His hand played you like a flute and rolled hard shivers down your spine. He whispered hotly against your skin,“No one’s around right now, Y/N. I get to have you all to myself… Like I know you’ve been wanting all day. I know how much you love our little dates, but I also know how much you look forward to  _this_. Besides, tonight’s special.”

“Why? Come up with another position you’d like to try?” You joked, tugging on his hair and bringing a vibrating growl from his teeth.“C'mon, that can wait until later. I want to keep making out against the books—it’s good foreplay.”

“Well, wait a second,” Jason chuckled. He gave you enough space to slip from the bookshelves, instinctually taking hold of the sides of his jacket and smiling up at him. He flashed a dazzling smirk, but something under it shined with hidden nervousness, brushed aside when your fingers clasped around the leather. Jason always seems to lean into your touch like it was the first time he’d been caressed and embraced in a long time. He does it now, swaying toward you like a tree about to topple.“You know how much I like you, right?”

“Let me guess,” you said, suddenly timid,“Look… Jason, if you found someone that you  _really_ like, then I am fine with stepping out. I’ve loved our get-togethers, sexual or not, but you deserve an actual [boyfriend/girlfriend].”

“I have found someone actually, and that’s why I called you here,” Jason said. He looked a little dizzily at you, trying to find the right words when your fingers lovingly drew up his chest and did their best to wrap around his neck. The behavior was barely new anymore; Jason had always looked at you a little too long, but there was something other than just plain attraction in his gaze. Now, he looked…  _enchanted_. Jason shuffled his feet,“Would you maybe wanna go out this Saturday. But this time… I’m your boyfriend, and you’re my—”

“Sure,” you said easily. Jason’s lips parted in surprise, which caused your laugh to bubble up and send him grinning.“I would love to. And don’t act surprised—I’m more observant than you think I am, and I’m also not an idiot.”

“The A+ grade in [class] proves it,” Jason said. Suddenly, his arms came to wind around you, less sensual and more emotional than before. The weight of his limbs felt more domestic than you ever could have hoped for.

Jason almost whined when you brushed back the spindle of white spun into his hair, making room for the light so that you could view his celestial eyes. He was almost purring now when you continued the action with other flyaways,“You helped.”

“Barely. I basically only gave you the book,” Jason said.

“Alright. Well, if you’ve come to a decision, then I’d love to continue what we were doing before,” you smiled, now smoothing your hands up his jaw.

Jason purred purposefully this time, from his tongue rather than his throat, suggestively wiggling his eyebrows. You laughed and tried to push away his advances as they came. But being an expert, Jason worked around your ticklish mirth and through the barricade, pressing his lips to yours with a grateful, blissful sigh of content.


	14. Memory Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m home,” he says, softly. He sounds like he’s living a reality of his dreamland. “I’m home, Y/N.”

_“What are you doing here?” You said._

_Your voice rings in the darkness the light of his helmet doesn’t fill, softer, quieter than you had intended it to be. There are hundreds, thousands of questions you could have asked._ How did you get in?  _There’s a key hidden by your front door, so maybe he found it there._ Why are you doing all this?  _Plenty of people had it out for Bruce Wayne and his allies; even so, the weight of the present moment seemed to spin with answers._ Who are you?  _Though you can’t bear it, though you can’t stand it, you are certain you know the answer to this too._

_You’ve only heard him—this strange, dangerously familiar man—speak once or twice. He’d been yelling at Batman, tone sharp with a metallic ferocity that cut the air with a vengeance. The next time was different. Not only was it directed at you, but it was soft and loving. Regretful. Longing, even. Maybe that’s when you knew. But it feels like you don’t know anything anymore._

_Especially because he’s doing it again. Red Hood makes no move to harm you, keeping his stance open and kicking his weapons at your feet. Even with the voice-disrupter he wears, his tone is twice as tender as it should be._

_“I came to see you.”_

_There’s a pause. There’s the feeling that he’s looking you over, drinking you in. You should have been extremely put off by this. You should have been fighting the intruder. You should, you should, you should—it’s that same old phrase you’ve been repeating more and more lately, and it mocks you with a childish echo of your own voice._

We should have had more time.

You should have lived longer.

_You should, you should, you should._

_A familiarity surrounds him in an aura of serenity. If he was any other man the night would bathe him in shadow, hide him from you, until he stepped into the bare light like fresh blood under the moon. But he’s not. He’s familiar, so moonlight pours upon him with all her grace and softens him into the little boy you see behind your eyelids._

_(It’s like he hasn’t seen you in an eternity, and the time he takes to fall in love with you again goes by so quickly his head spins. He’s not used to this quickness. Not used to this rush of feelings and heart, but it’s familiar.)_

_“I couldn’t wait any longer,” Red Hood said. He shook his head at himself, part in shame and part to avoid your gaze. “I should have… waited until it was over. But I don’t know what to think anymore… Do you… know?”_

_“Who you are underneath?” You said._

_The way you speak cracks and crumbles as the sentence travels, like a road aging away with time. More words fill you, enough to fill the silence and enough to fill a million books, but there’s a sob lodged in your throat and it won’t let you speak. As a result, you give him a tired wobble of a shrug._

_“I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised._

_Fighting through the sob’s barricade, his visage blurring underneath a sheen of your tears, you nod. “I know.”_

_Usually, you could feel whatever a person was feeling the moment you looked at them. Heroes from your previous team used to say what a useful ability it was, how powerful it was, how powerful you were—there was no need for touch, which eliminated challenging variables in the field. But you_ could  _touch. It was more intimate then, more potent and real. You could feel the way that this person felt. You could become so knowledgeable in this person’s nature that you almost_ are  _them._

_You look at Red Hood and you do not see what he feels. You look at him and you become him, all over again._

_Gotham’s lonely streets. Gotham’s heart, her core, where there is nothing but poverty and suffering and more poverty. The pills. The murder. The suicides. Her ugly, black heart, tangling him in her web with the tendrils of the tortured. Relief. A home, a brief luxury. A_ family _. Elation so thick and full the world turns to gold at the edges. Love, deep and real and pure. Health. And then hope, determination. A yearn for home. A yearn for forgiveness. Then nothing._

_Rebirth._

_Anger. Regret. Guilt. Longing. Anger. Regret. Guilt. Longing. Anger. Vengeance. Guilt. Longing. Anger. Vengeance. Longing. Vengeance. Longing. Longing. Here… home again. Love again. Guilt, beating and bearing down upon with the weight of the world, only to be lifted away even with a glimpse at his lover’s happiness… Their purity… Their beauty, here and now under the moonlight. Them. All he needed was just a glimpse…_

_“You know me,” he says softly, more than just remembering each other, but remembering one another’s hearts._

_“I do,” you quavered. This confirmed it for you. The word conjured itself from your lips, perhaps by order of your subconscious, perhaps from the will of the wind. But the moment you speak it the truth floods you in a sea. You know._

_Red Hood took in a shaky breath._

_With the careful hands of a desperate man, Jason Todd pulled off his helmet to reveal a passionate longing beneath._

_“I’m home,” he says, softly. He sounds like he’s living a reality of his dreamland. “I’m home, Y/N.”_

You pulled your hand from Jason’s cheek as if he had burned you. The memory flashed hard, sailing dots across your vision and making the same dark setting of your living room sway back and forth. Hands pull you from the memory. Sweet, corroded hands, guiding you into the center of the couch cushion and back into the real world.

“Hey,” Jason says. “ _Hey_. You okay? Look, I know you said that touching my cheek would heal me and everything, but you need way more healing than I do. That mission really wiped you out. You alright?”

His face swims in the blue midnight. For a moment you’re trapped in time’s limbo, caught between now and the year in which the memory took place, torn in two by the access of space. The red of his helmet blur in the corners of your vision. The light shadow of his face replaces it, outlined by the edges of Gotham City’s nighttime skyline as it scrapes past your window. Staring at his face seems to do the trick. Soon, you can look at him without seeing double.

“You okay?” Jason repeated.

“Yeah. Yes,” you nodded, but hissed and clutched your head when the stars in your eyes began to swirl faster. Awkwardly, you pulled your fingers out of the grooves they’d made in Jason’s sleeves, and gave him his well-needed space. Unknown to your dizzied mind, his hands had shot out to catch you again.

“But you shouldn’t be the one asking me that. Did it work? Are  _you_ okay?” You asked.

Jason pulled his eyes off of you to get a look at himself. The knife-wound he’d just gotten through his uniform had been repaired, leaving behind nothing but the bloodied and tattered remains of his armor. He gave a little grunt of indication, then stood up and turned into his bedroom to change.

You sighed, steeling yourself by unfolding and folding your hands repeatedly in your lap, watching his shadow undress as it fell across the living room floor. Before you could speak your worries, he began, “I’m… sorry we got interrupted earlier. I miss it—I like it, I mean. You’re a good partner.”

“Is that what you tell all the other booty calls, Mr. Todd?” You laughed, though there was a not of untruth to it.

This game had been going on for months. Jason was determined to keep you—a vigilante  _much more powerful_  than him  _and_ his enemies—away from his side of “the life”, and that meant the pre-death relationship you shared had to fizzle out. But Jason Todd was still a man very desperate for touch, and would occasionally return to you on nights like these to melt into intimacy in your bedroom. It was the only thing you could express anymore. It was the only thing that you could cling to, and some part of you wished that the spark would light again.

Jason appeared in the doorway. He paused just briefly enough for you to catch the way he looked over you, and it was strong enough to make you turn away from him; he was staring at you like you were lovers. He was staring at you like he did  _then_. With youthful, eternal longing. Like  _then._

The look went just as fast as it came, as sharp and as sudden as a flicker of firelight.

“You’re the only one,” Jason said simply. He shrugged, “I don’t think anyone could handle me with you. Especially with abilities like that—” Jason lifted his shirt and showed you the place where the knife wound had been, tapping on his hard skin, “There’s not even a scar. I don’t know how you do it.”

A blush rode its way up your neck with his awe-filled praise, and you were suddenly thankful Jason never turned on the lights. (His bill got so high sometimes, and it’s not like either of you were afraid of the dark). The only source came from the two windows across the living room. One was open, your re-entry into his apartment, and the other spilled the blue light of an electronic billboard across Jason’s face. He shot a glare at it like he wanted to buy curtains.

“Well, it comes from within,” you said.

At the phrase, your hand had drifted to the center of your chest, where your heart beat wildly underneath. Like you were teaching him how to own his own magic, Jason laid his hand in the same place and flashed you a boyish smile. The reality of it hit you harder than expected.

You were sitting here at three in the morning, in Jason Todd’s living room, about to divulge into the secrets of magic. It sounded stupidly juvenile. It sounded like you were just dumb teenagers with a little bit of real-world knowledge, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder upon the fire-escape, talking to the moon and each other after a patrol that wouldn’t let you sleep. When the hour finally became too late (or early), Jason would kiss you goodnight and head off into the city.

Now, you were here again, but it’s all wrong. You’re on opposite sides of the couch, feet pulled under your legs so you don’t end up wrapping around each other, far too knowledgeable of the world and its discrepancies. Even if you had spent a night before this one wrapped in one another’s bare embrace, there was no way that Jason Todd was going to kiss you goodnight for a long time.

“I have to want it to happen. I have to mean it.” You said, eyes darting anywhere but Jason’s, “I wanted to heal you. So I healed you.”

“I want to take a nap,” Jason chuckled.

“Then take a nap,” you agreed.

There was a soft moment where you laughed together. Maybe it wasn’t shoulder-shaking laughter, and maybe you weren’t together anymore, but a piece of the weight in your chest broke off with the activity. It was more his laugh that did it than your own.

“Well, maybe I won’t, actually. All of your power stuff seems pretty cool, and I only know so much about it,” Jason said. He threw his arm over the back of the couch and his legs on the coffee table, sinking into it like a tired ship into dock waters, “I mean, I know you can do the long-distance reading or whatever, and then there’s the kiss thing—” Jason flushed, clearly reminiscing all the times you had healed him with a kiss, “and you can translate emotions onto other people. What else?”

Without thinking, you spoke, “Sometimes, when I’m healing someone, I can see memories that are important to me and that person. Like with Kori—I remember this time she comforted me once. With Bruce, I—” you stopped short quite suddenly, catching the end of your sentence before it veered off.

 _I remember talking to him at the funeral,_ you wanted to say,  _I remember him saying, “You’re always welcome at the Manor. You’re always welcome as apart of this family, because I know Jason always thought of you as his.”_

“I remember when he told me that you died,” you blurted, which was somehow much worse than what you had originally wanted to say. Man, you suck at improvising.

When he remained quiet, only filling the air with a non-revealing  _hmm_ , you frantically tried to replace it,” Uh, yeah. Sometimes the memories are bad. But sometimes they’re good, too.”

To distract yourself from the crippling embarrassment now clawing at your heels, you began playing with a string of magic. After tying it around your hands a couple times, creating flowers and Eiffel Towers, then permanently dying inside, Jason thoughtfully questioned, “Did you see anything when you healed me?”

“Well, when I’m worried about someone or feeling something really strongly, I end up blocking out the memories,” you said, frantically pulling at your reserves so they could save you. They seemed to be digging your grave even deeper the more you spoke instead. “But I did see bits and pieces of the night you came back.”

Again, you say something stupid when he doesn’t respond right away. It’s like a talent of yours. “Yeah, I was really happy to see you. I think… I think I missed you the most, out of all of us. They all loved you a lot, but… y’know… I just felt it  _more_.”

Oookay, that’s enough. No more spouting. You literally just told him everything you’ve been thinking, ever, that you were suffering without him, and then totally confessed your love for him all over again. I’m sure Jason will think you’re still friends-with-benefits. You were just the person he calls when he wants to have sex, that he also happened to previously date. Nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong with reminding him that he  _died,_ either. The magic in your hands crackled lightly, and only then did you realize that it was fizzling out, and that warm hands were holding your shoulders.

“I was really happy to see you, too,” Jason said. He may have moved across the couch to sit beside you, and was now caressing your upper-arms, but he was staring down at the magic in your hands; it seemed to be his distraction as well. “You really have no idea. I was… I was thinking about you, a lot.”

His face was more angular in the night’s light. It cut apart his features, sharpening the hollows of his cheeks and the shadows under his jaw. Little bits of the black makeup he put around his eyes was still there, like mascara that hadn’t been cleaned off right. He looked exhausted. Even so, the light still hit him in all the right places and turned strokes of face into gossamer; his eyes would catch the blue sometimes and play with it like the magic in your hands, turning moss into sea and his tiredness into uncertainty; his lips shone with the same streaks as his taste pulled at the light.

“That’s good. That’s really, really good,” you muttered. A part of you had known that you were a core piece of Jason’s redemption, of his turn at coming down to Earth again.

Jason smiled and directed his gaze at you for the first time in the entire night. You were struck by that longing, the lover boy grin that pulled at your heartstrings and drowned you in bliss every night he came to visit.

“You know, you ramble when you’re nervous,” Jason observed.

“Yeah, I do,” you chuckled awkwardly. “And when I’m tired.”

“Then take a nap,” he said, echoing you. To your pleasant surprise, Jason turned your cheek and laid the lightest of kisses on your temple. He pulled himself off the couch, rubbing his neck all the while, and gestured for you to follow him, “I’ll tuck you in and everything.”

Before you could think, before you could realize why or what you were even doing, you got a leap of something else for the first time tonight. It wasn’t another realization that would build the weight in your chest. It wasn’t another touch of longing in your body language. It was courage, and it hit you much like it had hit Jason every time he wanted to kiss you.

You clasped Jason’s wrist. “Okay, but before—can I… Can I  _heal_ you?”

Jason opened his mouth to speak, no doubt to remind you that you had already done so, but then his lips snapped shut and his eyes widened by just a fraction.

“Yes,” he breathed, shuffling in place, “Yeah, I think—my lip is cut. Real bad.”

“Ooh, definitely,” you stared at Jason’s perfectly healthy lip, mock-grimacing. ”I’ll—”

He moved in like he had been waiting months for a cue, but your stomach dropped in disappointment: this was like all the kisses you’d shared in the previous months. They were passionate and lustful, but they were the kisses that Jason gave when you were no longer together. This is the kiss he gave when you returned from a lacking patrol and spent your energy on each other, as he caressed your sides and your stomach, murmuring sweet nothings that truly meant nothing. This was the kiss he gave you when he pulled you aside and pushed you into a wall, praising you up and down as he kissed down your throat.

Or maybe it wasn’t. As it lulled, as his fingers got to caressing your sides again, as you played with the hairs at the base of his skull, it drowned you in memory. This kiss held the emotion that he would plant on your cheek before he swung off into the city. This kiss held the emotion that he had when he asked, “Doll, have you eaten yet?” This kiss possessed the raw and pure feelings you got when you first told him you loved him, and the low longing in his heart as Jason was recovering from the Lazarus Pit.

It had been like that all along. Your escapades had been more than just lust-driven hazes, just having sex. You knew, then, that if you thought too deep into it you’d be mourning all over again. You couldn’t. But now you had the time, you had the conscience, and it was blindingly clear. Every kiss. Every touch. Every whisper that you didn’t catch, and every held breath: the longing was still there, and it was not sexual at all. It was a longing for lame jokes and your laughter and your humming when you brushed your teeth.

The thoughts echoed in your mind, over and over again, bouncing off the walls like the chimes of a wedding bell in a cathedral.

You pulled him closer, drowning in memories.

_“You’re not an accident,” Jason said, “You’re not anything that you think you are. You’re amazing, trust me.”_

_“You’re just saying that,” you sniffed, rubbing your tears on his jacket sleeve._

_“No, I’m not,” Jason said. He brushed the sleeve away from your face, “I like your powers, just like I like everything about you.”_

_You buried your face in his collar, taking in a deep, shaky breath that filled you like a tall glass of water. Jason allowed you a few more gulps of air between tears, before he whispered playfully into your ear, “You know you babble when you’re nervous, right?”_

_“Yeah,” you giggled._

_Then you were laughing; breathless, free, earth-shaking laughter where you could barely inhale. It was stupid. It was ridiculous and random. But it was with him, and that was all that seemed to matter._


	15. The Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday, Jason Todd.

The night was cold on Jason’s cheeks, nipping at the tears there like moths to a lone light in the darkness. It usually felt great. The cold had become a relief to him since he put on the costume. It used to be biting and hurtful, wrapping around him and strangling him in the nights where the only person who could comfort him was himself. On any other night, the cool breeze in his hair would have been addicting and alluring. Now… Jason felt more and more like those old nights as patrol rolled on.

Bruce had been… distracted lately, but maybe that had always been true. He was always trying to cover everything that he could, even when he was running out of hands. Jason didn’t  _want_ to blame the man he now called his father. So… he didn’t.

 _It’s the work_ , Jason reasoned, checking the wire in his grappling hook.  _He’s too busy, and that’s not his damn fault. I can get on without him remembering. I’ve gone a lot of birthdays without anyone remembering, anyway._

It’s not like Bruce, Alfred, Dick and Barbara forgetting his birthday wasn’t a big thing. It just felt… weird. When he’d gotten a family, he hadn’t even thought about what his birthdays would be like. He hadn’t celebrated it since he and his mom were under the same roof. They didn’t have enough money for real big gifts, either, and half the time she was spaced out on the mattress in the corner of the room.

(She’d  _always_ remember though, even if it was a couple hours too late. She’d get him a book or draw him something with waxy little Crayola pencils and that jagged sharpener. They’d end the night reading  _Charlotte’s Web_ on the couch, and she’d tuck him in and whisper to his temple,  _goodnight, sweet Prince of Gotham._ )

The thing was, even  _Supes_ had at least wished him a happy birthday (and a  _thank you_ for all his help with Mongul at the Fortress). His favorite coffee shop in his patrol zone had left out some cookies for him.  _Vicky Vale_ had even gone as far as to wish him a happy birthday, and to quote him as, “the best inside source for top-notch events” that she’d ever had. The only major person in his life to give him the full celebration perks was really—you. But that wasn’t exactly surprising.

Jason slipped into your room, dropping onto your floor with the silent grace of pooling moonlight. He peered first at your door, already shut and locked (a habit brought on by nosy guardians and your approaching adulthood), then settled his heels on the carpet and sighed. Your parents were asleep and home. He’d have to be extra quiet, and Robin was a little rusty when it came to visiting his significant other in the dead of night.

He brushed his fingers against your cheek, hoping to wake you as peacefully as he could.  _I shouldn’t have come here_ , Jason suddenly thought, and pulled away,  _They need to sleep. I shouldn’t have bothered them with how I’m feeling—_

“Hh!” Your breath hitched, hand slapping against your heart. The tensity in your shoulders leaked away the moment you were mask-to-eyes with him, and you immediately grouched, “What’re you wakin me up for? You miss me too much’t wait til’ t'morrow?”

“Sorry,” Jason whispered, retreating back into the shadow your closed curtains created. He didn’t want you to see the ruddy tears on his face. He hadn’t realized he was even crying until he’d stepped inside your room, regret and frustration leaking out of his pores. “I—”

His attempt to explain himself was cut off by you, lighting up like a firework and whirling around to check the time. “11:51,” you beamed, beckoning him closer, “still enough time.”

“For what?” Jason chuckled.

You bent over the edge of your bed and dug around for a bit, shoulders wiggling, doing your cute thing with your tongue that Jason couldn’t help but quirk a smile at. The next moment, you resurfaced with petite old book in your hands—the kind you’d find at a garage sale, usually one of those old mystery books that everyone knows the ending too now.

“For this,” you told him, gently, and slid your fingers down the squeaky cover as you passed it toward him. He felt your kiss against his cheek the next second, and your adoring whisper a beat after that. “Happy birthday, wonder boy. I hope you like it.”

Jason, of course, flushed like a fool at the invitation to take it.

He turned it over in his hands, and found it to be more of a mystery than the garage-sale appearance lead on. The binding made it look like it was from the 1800s, and the subtraction of a title on either cover nor the spine doubled the effect. He peeled it open to find the book fighting his movements; it was made to look old, then, but had to be new. It was a quality copy of  _Grimms’ Fairy Tales_ , and one that read “expensive” and “meaningful” all over. Jason felt his tongue turn to cotton and his tear-streaked cheeks go ablaze. No one had ever gotten him something like this before—no one but his mother.

“In the bookstore, a couple months ago,” Jason called the memory to mind, letting the whisper hover between your two bodies. He’d been talking about it all afternoon; he wanted to get his hands on the book, but was too nervous to ask Bruce for it. It  _was_ just a book. It was also just a book that he was very excited to read. You met eyes, “You remembered.”

“Of  _course_ I did,” you laughed gently, “How could I ever not? You were so excited, and you were so happy and jittery thinking about all the lore and interest in the book. It felt… impossible, not just giving it to you the moment I bought it.”

Jason made no general move to react, too stunned to respond. He studied the neat inking of the title within the pages. Then you were hugging.

He engulfed you in a single-armed hug, one hand keeping the book to his chest and the other knotted in your pajamas. His nose buried into your shoulder, “You are… Thank you, baby. Really. Thank you  _so_ much.”

“Anything for my favorite birthday boy,” you laughed. The automatic reaction to a hug from Jason was to move aside any stray locks, all to get the best view of his face. You did that with the same sweet intentions. But then your smile dropped and the light fizzled out, “Jason… are you…  _crying?_ ”

“S’ not you,” Jason assured. He went to wipe away the tears on his gauntlet, dropping a mock-laugh in to lighten things. He’d do too many things to see his firework burst again. “Well,  _now_ it is—you really know how to make a guy tear up, sweetheart. In the good way.”

“Then who made you cry before?” You pressed, hands worrying his shoulders.

Jason didn’t really know what to say. He just shook his head, “Uh. I’m sorry I woke you up—I never wanted to be a bother—”

“You could never bother me.” The thought was swatted away, and Jason watched it go with a longing to follow. He didn’t want to burden you with this—he should’ve just waited until tomorrow. You’d made plans to see each other anyway, mainly due to the fact that Jason was busy with a charity banquet earlier tonight. He had been hoping that Bruce would have brought it up then. Obviously… he never got around too it, and had left early to handle an emergency in the inner city.

Again, Jason didn’t blame him. As much as he wanted to.

Attempting again, you tilted your head and faced him with a melted expression. “What happened?”

Jason just shrugged weakly. “I just… you’re really the only one who remembered today.” Shaking his head, he scoffed, “Bruce and Dick just—ugh.”

Your face fixed all at once, lip curling and cheeks reddening. Before Jason could take back what he’d said you were up and off, darting out of your room and silently down the hall. Jason cursed—this wasn’t the best way he wanted your parents to find out he was Robin—and spun after you, only to enter the kitchen with a candle shoved in his face.

A birthday candle. On a muffin.

“We didn’t have any cupcakes,” you whispered, pressing the small delight into his gloves. “But I  _promise_  I’ll pick you up something better tomorrow. You deserve the whole entire world, and I  _can’t_ believe that all of them aren’t here to say the same thing to you.”

You shuffled over to the fridge, shaking your head wildly and cleaning up the mess of your rushed creation. The speech ended with a final, disbelieving, “Don’t they see how important you are?”

“Y/N,” Jason said. He had been  _wanting_ to be mad earlier, but you helped him realize that maybe that wasn’t need. “One birthday isn’t the end of the world. Bruce and Dick are busy all the time. I’m sure something just… came up.”

You considered his words with wandering eyes, searching for a crack in his composure, at least a slice of anger too. Okay… Jason  _was_ mad, and sure, he blamed Bruce (he could have tried harder to remember, he  _does_ know everything). But being mad wasn’t going to do a whole lot. Being here… with you…  _was_ going to do something. And that something was buzzing around his chest, leaping at the idea of the stupid book and the stupid muffin and the stupid  _you_.

My god, did he want to find a word for this feeling.

“We’ll figure it out later,” Jason surmised. As kindly as he could, he found your fingers and knotted them with his. “For now… I just wanna be here. Happy. With you. And I want to read that book.”

“Okay.” You gave a sigh through your nose. “Okay,” you tried again, more enthusiastic, and began to lead him back to your room. “Will you read to me? With the voices?”

Mouth stuffed with birthday muffin and grinning wide, Jason promised. “Without a doubt.”

[He awoke the next morning to a full-scale birthday breakfast and celebration at the Manor. Bruce got him a copy of  _Charlotte’s Web_.]  


End file.
